


Welcome Home

by RAdHatter13



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Anne swears, F/F, Mentions of Sex, Soft Girlfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25966288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAdHatter13/pseuds/RAdHatter13
Summary: This author's take on the children arriving a couple of years after the Queens have adjusted to living in present times.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr
Comments: 69
Kudos: 180





	1. Discovery

It was normal for Anne to wake up before Cathy on nights they shared a bed. It was normal for Anne to wake up before 8 AM, as she was a fairly early riser, much to the surprise of her other queens. It was normal for Anne to scroll aimlessly on her phone for the first few minutes before truly starting her day. This was not a normal morning. 

Anne woke up confused. She’d spent dozens upon dozens of nights in Cathy’s room over the last few years, but had never before heard the sound presently disturbing her slumber. It was high-pitched, almost like a whistle, but in much quicker bursts of succession. 

She cracked one eye open to see if Cathy was similarly irked, but no, she was blissfully unaware. Anne couldn’t help smiling at how peaceful Cathy looked. Anne was so thankful for Cathy’s presence in this life. 

But that damn noise. 

Resigning herself to the awful fate of waking up shortly before you’re ready, and therefore losing out on those beloved moments of rest, Anne sighed and unwrapped herself from around her girlfriend and searched for the origins of that which had roused her. Upon scanning the room it immediately became clear. 

On Cathy’s side of the bed, where the previous night there had been empty space, now sat a baby’s Moses basket. 

And as shocking as that should have been, at first, Anne was only perplexed. They didn’t have a baby. No one in the house did. Perhaps it was her brain still adjusting to the morning, but Anne felt like she was missing something, something important. 

She gently crawled out of bed and made her way around to look down into the basket. Sure enough, there was a genuine baby in it. Their little chest rose and fell in time with the noise that had been so bothersome. Anne didn’t really mind anymore though. 

“Hi there precious. Now how exactly did you get here in Cathy’s room?” Anne wondered aloud. She hesitantly hovered a hand over their chest. They looked so content and she knew it was never a good idea to startle a baby or you would suffer the consequences. 

Anne twisted around and gently nudged Cathy’s shoulder. She whispered, “Babe wake up.”

Cathy didn’t even move. Anne tried again, this time with a little more force.

“Too early Annie,” groaned Cathy. She had not planned on being awake this prematurely and even she would admit to being a bit of a pain before properly adjusting to the day.

Anne huffed playfully. Normally she would agree and leave Cathy to get some needed rest, but it was already abundantly clear that today was not normal.

“I know love, but I think you should see this,” Anne murmured. She leaned down to press a kiss to the space between her girlfriend’s shirt collar and neck. She brushed her thumb over Cathy’s knuckles and let her take a deep breath. Cathy rolled over and cuddled into Anne. She loved being the little spoon, to Anne’s eternal delight and was known throughout the house for whining if she hadn’t been held in a stretch.

She grumbled, “See what?”

She let Anne grip her shoulder and pull her into a sitting position, following Anne’s gesturing hand to the side of the bed.

“ _ Oh.”  _

That about summed it up.

Cathy scooted closer to the edge and peered down like Anne had earlier. Though it didn’t need to be said, she stated, “That’s a baby.”

“Yeah Cath. That’s a fucking baby,” smirked Anne. 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Anne felt Cathy shove her upper arm and admonish, “You shouldn’t swear in front of a baby.”

Laughingly Boleyn retorted, “I highly doubt the baby cares if I swear.”

Immediately the baby voiced their disagreement by waking up and fussing in their swaddle. They wiggled, as if trying to escape their warm cocoon.

Cathy exclaimed, “Look what you did!” as she pointed accusingly to the infant.

“Shh I’m sorry baby. I won’t do that anymore,” pleaded Anne. She gripped her hands together tightly and attempted to placate them. 

Cathy was equally distressed by the baby’s discomfort. She frantically scrambled to see what was the matter. She begged to no avail, “Please don’t cry baby.”

Still the poor thing continued to make their presence known.

Parr didn’t know how to help. She directed her girlfriend, “Anne do something to fix this!”

“Like what?!” was Anne’s response. She wasn’t sure what she should be expected to do. 

Exasperatedly, Cathy growled, “I don’t know. Babies like you.”

Anne had to admit that was true. Whenever they were out and a kid caught Anne’s eye she’d make silly faces at them until they laughed. It usually didn’t take too long and Cathy found it endearing. 

“Alright! Come here little one,” Anne said as she freed the baby from their swaddle, scooped them into her arms, and rocked them gently back and forth. “Shh it’s okay, you’re okay. What’s the matter? Hmm?” Surprisingly, the human contact seemed to do the trick. The babe calmed and stopped their agitation. 

Anne felt something warm pool in her stomach. Even though she’d seen many children in this new life, she had yet to hold one. She realized she had missed the weight of a little one against her chest. For a moment, she was filled with the vast bounty of sadness that always hit her when she thought of her darling Elizabeth. As proud as she was of Elizabeth’s survival and documented brilliance, she knew she would never stop wishing to have had the chance to be there for more of her daughter’s life. And if she was willing to admit it to herself, a different, but just as profound grief reared its head when she thought of the babies she had lost, those she had never even been able to hold, the Tudor boys she could never hate, regardless of who had sired them. She pushed those thoughts away though. She had mourned her children before and she would do so again when there were less pressing matters. 

She looked down at the tiny life now relaxing against her shoulder. Boleyn cooed, “That’s better. Did you just want some cuddles? You sound just like-,” and cut herself off. Hadn’t Cathy just done the exact thing? 

“Anne?” asked Cathy. She was confused why Anne had stopped her train of thought. 

“A baby just randomly appears in your room while we’re sleeping,” Anne started. If her line of thinking was correct, she knew it would be best to not completely spring the idea.

Cathy agreed with that statement. She placed a supporting hand on the child’s back and mused, “It’s almost frightening to consider it’s not the weirdest thing to happen to us. Are you baby?”

Cathy was right about that. Anne sensed she’d have to direct her observations more precisely.

Anne tried again, “A baby that gets fussy when they want to get some cuddles.”

Humming in accord, Cathy added, “They look very young. I’d say maybe only a week or two old. It’s good for a child this young to get significant human contact to acclimate them outside of the womb.”

On any other day, Anne would have wanted Cathy to ramble for the remainder of the morning. She loved the way Cathy’s mind would unravel any topic, no matter the subject material. It was one of the first things that had drawn her to her fellow queen. That and her ass. Not that it technically mattered now. Guess she was going for broke. 

With resolution, Anne heard herself say, “Catherine.”

“What?” replied Cathy, her brows furrowed with uncertainty. Anne almost never called her Catherine.

Anne took a deep breath and stared down at beautiful brown eyes that she would know anywhere, eyes she had stared into countless times on countless nights spent in this bed, eyes that reflected the yearnings she had in this new life for the future, eyes set in the little face glancing up at her. Cathy’s eyes. 

“They’ve got your eyes,” she whispered. It hung in the air between them. 

Cathy had gone rigid, dropping the hand on the infant’s back to her lap. Anne could barely make out the way Cathy’s breath had hitched, how her exhales came with more difficulty, as if they were catching in the back of her throat, and she knew Cathy was fighting back tears. In these moments it was best to let Cathy have a handful of minutes to get her thoughts in order. Once she knew how she felt, she was more than willing to accept physical reassurance, but before that it would only serve to smother and irritate Cathy and prolong her process. 

As Anne sat silently, occasionally swaying from side to side for the baby’s benefit, Cathy collected her mind as she felt it charge into a future she had only dreamed of on the rarest of instances. From the second she had seen the child lying in their basket Cathy had fought to temper the hope blooming in her heart. If there was even the most insignificant, tiniest possible chance that this newborn was her long-lost daughter, Cathy would snatch it from thin air and defend it with her dying breath.

She didn’t want to get ahead of herself, but with everything she had been through since returning to the realm of the living, it seemed almost logical that the identity of this discovered baby in her room could only be the child she had barely been able to bring into the world. 

“Please don’t get my hopes up,” Cathy beseeched Anne, her usually clear voice wobbling in fearfulness, apprehension, caution, and the slightest measure of the deep-seated fury and resentment Cathy carried with her every day from the many indignities she had suffered during her former life. 

Now Anne understood. Cathy wasn’t incapable of connecting the dots-of course she wasn’t, she was the smartest person Anne had ever met-it was that doing so would acknowledge the full spectrum of emotions Cathy kept locked away on most days. Doing so would pry open the chasm she had attempted to stitch shut when she first arrived in the present. Doing so would mean committing to a vulnerability Anne typically only witnessed in the dead of night, when nightmares and memories blended together to haunt the blue queen. Doing so would **hurt.**

Anne wished there was an easy answer to any of this, that there was a flashing billboard pointing to the baby, saying here she finally is. 

Wait a second. Anne shifted her precious cargo to one arm and with the other grabbed the azure blue blanket she’d haphazardly tossed aside whilst unwrapping the flailing infant. On the bottom, in golden cursive, was a name. Feeling the tears collect at the edges of her eyes, Anne held it aloft for Cathy to see.

“Mae.”


	2. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to reference Catherine Parr's death as well as the children Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn lost during their respective marriages. I am therefore warning there will be depictions of pregnancy, illness, death, miscarriages, and stillborns.

"Mae.”

Cathy had said it like a prayer, like it carried more reverence than that due a goddess. She inched closer to Anne, who prudently rotated the infant towards her mother, but did not reach out to touch. She could not risk coming to the hard truth that she was imagining this. If this was fabricated by her desperate imagination she had to delay the realization for as long as possible. 

She steeled her nerves and directed her question to the snoozing babe, “Is it really you baby girl?” 

Anne trailed a singular finger across a chubby cheek and encouraged, “Open those pretty eyes again for us sweetheart. Please show us.”

The nose scrunched up and Anne felt adoration seep into her bloodstream. She cracked a smile at another identical action. She had no doubts this was her love’s daughter. 

Twin pools of rich, chestnut brown blinked unfocused in Cathy’s direction. While she remembered reading that newborns were aggressively near-sighted, she refrained from moving any closer. She didn’t need to.

“It’s like looking in the mirror,” admitted Parr sheepishly. She tentatively cupped a smooth cheek and stroked a worshipful thumb across the tawny expanse. 

“It is,” Anne agreed. She continued, “She looks exactly how I’ve always imagined you would have looked as a baby in this body. I bet she’ll have your curls too.” 

Right now the exposed, near-black hairs were straight, although a closer view was predominantly obstructed by the world’s smallest beanie. But if Mae really did take after Cathy physically, and the odds were looking good since they already had their mannerisms down, she would one day be sporting winsome ringlets like her mother. 

Cathy studied every feature, noting each tangible parallel they shared. Amazingly the list was reaching double digits. The tears she had been fighting off were threatening to materialize again. This was her flesh and blood. In a manner of speaking. This body had never been pregnant, never grown a child, never powered through the natural disaster that was delivery. While she accepted the memories of her final days would always be muffled by the fog of her steady march towards death’s door-and on most days she was relieved she could not remember the worst of the infection spreading through her veins, the fever rotting her from the inside, or the irreversible taste of defeat at the muted awareness that the heralded “survivor” had been brought to her demise by the naive dream of happily ever after-Cathy still felt a connection to the life she had created nearly five hundred years prior. She theorized that perhaps much like the queens and ladies, Mae had returned with the essence of her soul from the sixteenth century even if everything corporeal had changed. This time, however, there would be no memories to help prove the hypothesis. Either way, it felt too good to be true.

Quite suddenly it registered with Anne that Cathy had yet to hold Mae. She would remedy it immediately. She instructed, “Let me give her to you babe. You should be holding her right now.”

Instead of leaning in, Cathy recoiled at the suggestion. She couldn’t do that. She had been the one to leave Mae alone and unprotected all those years ago. A dark thought reared its head and purred in her ear that it was Cathy’s fault Mae had died young, that the child would be best served now with as little involvement from her mother as possible. She tightly gripped the bedsheet to keep her hands occupied and began to object, “Anne I can’t-,” but Boleyn wouldn’t even let her finish.

“Everything’s okay. She’s real. I promise. You deserve to hold her properly and once you do, I absolutely know you’re going to fall even more in love with her. I can see it already. Tell your awful, untrue thoughts to shut it,” Anne coaxed indulgently. Cathy just needed to get out of her own head for a minute. Everything would be okay then.

Anne gently squeezed one of the straining fists and pulled it away from the bed. She guided it under Mae’s back and watched Cathy’s body curl protectively around the newborn as she was transferred between the two queens. As soon as Mae was fully in Cathy’s arms Anne slipped behind her girlfriend and rested her head on a heaving shoulder. She pressed what she hoped was a supportive kiss right under Cathy’s jaw and let her eyes roam, alternating between looking at Mae slowly adjusting to her new accommodation and watching Cathy’s face for clues into her emotional processing. 

All three of them sat in silence. 

Anne glanced over to her phone on the side table and removed one hand from its ministrations at Cathy’s waist to grab the device in order to document this moment. It had been a steep learning curve upon arrival, yet now Anne was hard pressed to go more than several hours without accessing some social media account or looking up any odd thought that popped into her head. A picture of the first time a child was meeting their parent certainly counted as a benefit of modern technology. 

As Anne angled to capture both Cathy and Mae in frame, Cathy spoke, “Hello little one. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m your…” She choked up and trailed off. A little leg stretched in the pause.

“You’re her Mummy of course.”

“I’m your Mummy.” 

Her tears made their grand debut and spilled in torrents. She could barely make out the bundle settled in her lap she desperately hoped wouldn’t frighten at the change in the room’s tone.

Anne reinforced and steadied her. Murmuring to keep from distressing Mae, she promised, “I’ve got you. Both of you.” It was sealed with a peck to the side of her head.

Parr felt anchored by the body sprawled out on her knees and the reassuring weight pressed into her back. She had her baby. She had her beloved, who already seemed equally infatuated with the infant. Her beloved who was still missing a daughter. 

Cathy willed the twin rivers on her face to slow and attempted to clear the throat constricting with congestion. She turned slightly towards Anne and said, “You should go to your room.”

Anne’s face fell. Of course Cathy would want to spend some time alone with Mae. She had no right inviting herself into this private moment, for selfishly indulging a fantasy where the two of them would be responsible for Mae’s wellbeing together. Cathy might be her girlfriend, but Mae was not her child. Maybe Cathy wouldn’t even want to be involved with Anne anymore now that she had reclaimed this crucial role. Why care for Anne when the baby needed Cathy’s guidance and nurturing?

Sensing that Anne hadn’t grasped what Cathy had meant, the younger queen amended her statement, “You should check your room. If Mae is here with us, maybe-”

“Maybe Lizzie is too,” caught on Anne. 

Could it really be that simple? If she took those steps towards her own door, would she find her child patiently waiting? Would she be as young as Mae or much older, potentially older than Anne herself? Would she remember a life without her mother, a life where she’d been cast aside by her father-like every other woman he’d ever tired of-until Parr’s persuasive words brought her back into his mercurial good graces and set her on a path that teetered between survival and surplus. She swiftly concluded it would be much worse to not have Lizzie at all than to have her as an adult. Regardless of her age, Elizabeth would always be Anne Boleyn’s daughter.

The fear hollowed itself deep into Anne’s bones. In the three years and some odd months since taking her first breath in nearly five centuries, there had not been one day where Anne’s mind didn’t drift to the toddler she’d been forced to abandon. Catalina had comforted her on so many awful nights when neither of them could manage sleep, as they shared stories about their beautiful daughters and agonized over the babies they had lost before they’d even gotten to live. Losing someone always hurt, but the language of that grief was so intimately tied up in the fractured relationship; the mourning for the lost future mixed with the regrets of the past in unpredictable means. 

Cathy could sense the untethering now clouding Anne’s mind. She scooped Mae from her lap and burrowed them both into Anne’s chest. Muscle memory took over as Anne’s arms encompassed them. 

Anne knew she had to name the fear to overcome it. She voiced her concern, “What if she’s not here?” 

Mae grunted softly. 

“That’s right Mae. We’re going to cross that bridge if we get to it. There’s only one way we’ll know for certain either way.” Cathy could not offer false promises now. It would not be right or fair. Besides, a part of her would also be devastated if Elizabeth hadn't also returned.

Anne knew she had to look. At this point, she was only delaying the inevitable. If she was destined to have her hopes destroyed, it was best to get it over with quickly so she could experience the pain and eventually begin to heal.

“Will you come with me?” Boleyn asked, her eyes darting across the room. She would always feel more confident with her girlfriend at her side and Cathy knew this. “You don’t have to and of course you can bring the baby, so she’s not alone here if you do, but I would really appreciate it if you would.” 

Cathy could feel the tension in Anne’s whole body. She placed a featherlight kiss below Anne’s ear. “Of course I will. We will. Right Mae?” 

The babe merely yawned in response, melting both women’s hearts even further.

The pair pushed off the bed and made for the door. Anne popped her head out first, scanning the hall for any signs of movement. It was so far unspoken, but the caution they were exercising suggested neither wanted the others to know what was happening before either the life-changing confirmation or heart-breaking disappointment. Anne wondered if Cathy also wanted the chance to be upset if Elizabeth wasn’t tucked away in Anne’s bed. 

Nodding that the coast was clear, Anne slipped into the hallway with Cathy close behind and crept towards the staircase that led to her attic abode. They paused at the door she had closed the previous evening. 

Cathy faintly reminded, “We’re right behind you love.” 

With a shaking hand, Anne twisted the handle and pushed the door ajar.

  
  
  
  


There was a body in her bed. 

  
  
  
  


That was a good sign. Incredibly. Her knees trembled as she crossed the floor, knelt down, and pulled the covers back subtly. If the hair had been Tudor red she wouldn’t have needed anything else, but with growing apprehension and a pooling ball of dizzying expectation settling under her skin, she brushed back some of the tangles from the sleeping face.

“Elizabeth?” she breathed. “Elizabeth please wake up.”

The child stirred at her behest. Their eyelashes fluttered to reveal hazel-green orbs. A balled up fist was dragged across one eye in irritation.

“What Mama?”

“Oh my heart you’re here. You’re here! Mama loves you so, so much. I love you Lizzie,” Anne ecstatically crooned. She kissed all over Elizabeth’s face, making sure every inch had been covered.

Lizzie giggled, “Mama stop! No more!” She contorted her body in Anne’s arms in her attempts to escape her mother’s lips.

Anne pulled back with adoration in her eyes. “I’m sorry my love. I needed to do that. Come give Mama a big hug. Squeeze as hard as you like. That’s it. I love you princess,” cried Anne. She was perhaps the most happy she had ever been, even more so than on the day Elizabeth had been born. After all, she could see Cathy beaming in the doorway with baby Mae. She had more today, more that really mattered, than on that warm September day.

“Love you too Mama.”

She’d waited four hundred and eighty-three years to hear those words again. It felt like phantom threads were mending the hole Henry had punched in her heart the day he’d ripped her away from the only child she had left. 

Evidently Anne was not the only one who noticed Cathy because Elizabeth popped her head over her mother’s shoulder and waved, “Hi.”

Cathy’s eyes jerked to Anne’s eyes. Anne gestured for her girlfriend to come closer. Lizzie might not remember Cathy if she was this small, as they wouldn’t have met yet. If that was the case, Anne was lucky to witness their new introduction.

Parr adjusted Mae and smiled down at the duo on the bed, “Hello Elizabeth.”

Lizzie bounced onto her knees to get a better look at Mae. She excitedly asked, “Is that a baby?”

“Sure is. Lizzie, this is Mae. Can you say hi?” Anne instructed. She tugged Cathy towards them so they resembled a huddle of penguins, then Mae was lowered to Lizzie’s eye level. Anne watched her daughter delight in the baby’s wiggling form. She slipped her hand into the pocket holding her phone, hoping to freeze this moment forever. As she opened her camera a message popped up on the screen in the house’s group chat.

FAMILY MEETING ASAP!!

Well that seemed to validate Anne’s speculation that one surprise child in a morning was luck, but two was most assuredly a pattern. It stood to reason there were probably two other unexpected guests in the house. 

“Cath, we’re needed downstairs. Family meeting.”

“I guess this is really happening then.”

Anne looked at her daughters-no, her daughter and Cathy’s daughter-and mused, “Yeah it’s really happening love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been able to outline the story more and right now I'm shooting for about six chapters. I don't think the rest of these updates will be as frequent.


	3. Gathering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with chapter 3! This one got away from me a little, so the actual discussion will be in the next chapter. Thank you to everyone who's voiced support for this! I'm very appreciative of the hits, kudos, and comments.

Knowing they were expected by the rest of the house Anne snapped a couple of quick pictures of the children before putting her phone away. She wanted to delay the meeting by a couple minutes, if only to gather herself. She’d just been reunited with her daughter and watched her partner interact with her baby for the very first time. She was emotionally free falling, but there was also a more shameful reason Anne needed time to collect her thoughts.

**Mary Tudor.**

Depending on what age she had rematerialized as Anne could be facing a teenage princess who sought to blame Anne for her father’s actions in adding cracks to her parents’ marriage; a young woman stripped of her title and birthright, a woman Anne had mercilessly tormented to seal her own place at court, which sickened the former queen; or a reigning monarch, who while perhaps had been unfairly criticized by history without also having her positive contributions touted, had indeed sent many of her subjects to their deaths for the contemporarily rational grounds of practicing a variation of the true faith. 

She shuddered for a fleeting second. Boleyn had come a long way since her earliest days. She knew Elizabeth had also done terrible things, things they all had once justified with appeals to the divine rights of kings and the duty of committed Christians. There was blood on her precious daughter’s hands regardless.

Or was there? Did this Elizabeth remember her past life or was she pulled from a much earlier point in time? She couldn’t be older than three or four. She hadn’t done any of those things yet technically they’d already happened. It honestly made Anne’s head hurt a bit, like when she’d most recently participated in Kitty’s monthly Sci-Fi Sundays (which she did normally enjoy, but really what the fuck was going on in Terminator Genisys?). 

When Anne and the other queens had returned, their memories provided them ample avenues to begin their varying paths towards penance. Seeking redemption in this life was one of the commonalities she and Cathy had first seen in one another and had both used as the singular excuse to spend more time together, back before they’d admitted to themselves their more carnal motivations. No matter how old Mary was now, Anne understood she had a long road ahead of her and forgiveness was not guaranteed or necessarily deserved. She’d walk that road forever if it meant she had her girls by her side though.

These thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Cathy’s throat clearing. “Perhaps Mae and I should head down now and allow the two of you a moment alone before joining the others?” 

“Others Mama?” Lizzie asked her mother. She queried her little head to the side and Anne’s heart squeezed in ecstasy.

“Yes love. We have some friends waiting downstairs. Can you excuse Mama for a second?” Anne gently moved Lizzie back to the mattress and followed Cathy towards the door. She placed an arm around Cathy’s right shoulder and pulled their foreheads close together. She murmured, “Hey.”

Cathy could feel Lizzie’s eyes on them. She warned, “Easy. She’s notoriously attentive, even at this age.” She was nervous around Elizabeth. This child didn’t recognize her, certainly didn’t know of the relationship Cathy and Anne had nurtured in the last two years. As far as Elizabeth was concerned, Anne was still married to Henry and if she caught onto the two of them before they were able to explain that he wasn’t here, and would (hopefully) never be coming back, Cathy worried Lizzie’s obstinance and Boleyn temper would find themselves targeted in her direction. She hated that she felt this way. A much larger portion of her brain was shouting at her to hold Lizzie tight and promise to never let her hurt again.

Anne prompted, “So what’s our plan?” She was attempting to coax Mae into grasping her pinky, but the infant hadn’t caught on. God Cathy loved her. 

Cathy sighed. “I don’t know, but odds are good Mary is here and I’m betting she won’t be that happy to see you. Not that she was my biggest fan either, but that’s besides the point. I just think we should be aware of our actions before Elizabeth understands what’s happening a little.” 

“So hands off?” pouted Anne.

Nodding in agreement, Parr said, “Yes for now, though that face isn’t helping at all.”

Anne smirked, “Keep it in your pants babe.” She teasingly tugged on the bottom hem of Cathy’s shirt. “I’ll see you in a couple then. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” She addressed the toddler, “We’ll see you soon Lizzie.”

Anne crossed back to Lizzie, scooped her into her arms, and twirled them around. “It’s so good to see you again  _ mon bonheur _ ! Goodness, how I’ve missed you.” 

“Who’s downstairs Mama?” Elizabeth questioned. 

Naturally she wouldn’t give Anne a minute to figure out her approach. Curse her daughter’s brilliance.

“Well love,” Anne began. “You’re about to meet a couple of Mama’s dearest friends.” She paused, then continued, “Actually, they’re so much more than that. The women downstairs, they’re my family princess and now that you’re here, they’re your family too. I know that might be a little confusing, but I promise to explain any questions you might have. Okay?

“Okay.”

Boleyn relaxed the slightest at the accord. She looked down and remembered she was only wearing her pajamas. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but Anne fretted that Mary might take anything as a perceived slight and thought it best to cover up a little.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do baby. Mama is gonna get dressed and then we’ll freshen up before joining everyone. You can play with this in the meantime. Sound good?” she checked. She held her phone out, an app Anne fiddled with on the tube sometimes already open for Elizabeth’s entertainment. Luckily the noise and colors fully enraptured the toddler and Anne was allowed to prepare in peace.

Meanwhile, Cathy had descended both flights of stairs and been greeted by her four housemates and two of their children. Kitty had cuddled up on the sofa next to Jane, who was cautiously holding an infant against her chest. Standing in the corner across the room, were Catalina, Anna, and a young woman. Catalina did not have a baby, so Cathy was fairly confident that Henry Cornwall had not similarly reanimated. She briefly wondered if that upset her godmother, but she imagined that was a conversation for later. She caught Kitty’s eyes flitting up to Mary and then away several times in quick succession. In all the hubbub she’d forgotten they had also had a turbulent association, regardless of the brevity of Katherine’s marriage. 

She announced her presence, “So it seems I am not the only one with an unexpected visitor.” 

Immediately all eyes in the room were on her, which was not particularly welcomed.

Jane was surprisingly the first to break the silence. She hesitantly posed, “Is Anne aware of what’s happened?”

Cathy understood the underlying question. No one wanted to assume Elizabeth was also at hand in case she inexplicably wasn’t. Anne would need them all if that were the case.

Cathy assuaged the room, “She’ll be down with Elizabeth in a minute.”

A smile danced across Mary’s face. That was a very good sign.

Kitty called her over, “Cathy come see Eddie!”

“Eddie?” 

She sat on Jane’s other side and adjusted Mae, who continued to keep her peace. She really was content in someone’s arms. Anne had been right about that similarity. 

“Well Edward’s much too stuffy for a baby and Ned’s so old school,” the fifth queen explained with an air that suggested her train of thinking was obvious. 

Jane hadn’t objected, so perhaps she could see the value in Katherine’s observations. Cathy leaned over. This boy had once considered her his mother and she’d disappointed him by marrying his uncle mere months after his father’s death. She’d disappointed all of them in some way. 

He was about as fair as Jane, with the faintest hints of strawberry blond hair. The blessings were unceasing this morning. None of the Tudor children were sporting their father’s looks this time.

She grinned softly, “Hello sweet prince. It’s been a long time.”

Jane shifted him and he made a small noise in response. The third queen stammered, “I know last time you were more of a mother to him than I was.” She stopped, unsure how to convey what she wanted to say without direly offending Cathy.

“It was a lifetime Jane. I will always love that Edward, but I think I’m very much looking forward to being Aunt Cathy this go around,” Parr placated. She knew Jane to be insecure when it came to her ability to care for others. History saw her as this doting mother and timid wife. Yes, she’d treated Mary and Elizabeth kindly, had striven to fill the holes in their lives, but she’d only had a year and a half to make an impression. Between Elizabeth’s youth and Mary’s clear desire for anyone to love her even half as much as Catalina had, Jane felt like she’d been dealt a much easier hand. Cathy had been there when Edward was old enough to comprehend the significance of a mother’s love and therefore the significance of its absence.

And it was true. Cathy would always love Edward, just like she’d always love Mary, Elizabeth, Jane Grey, and John and Margaret Neville. She’d fulfilled the roles expected of her then and the role she’d been assigned now differed. She would make her peace with it and play her part.

Jane visibly relaxed at this statement, but Anna’s keen observations sensed the dormant tension. She signaled for Parr to join her trio and Cathy gratefully did.

Catalina was positively euphoric. Cathy had probably never seen her godmother this happy. She put up a brave front, but over the years each of the queens had broken down the walls only Maria had first navigated. Lina’s deepest sorrow would always be trying to reconcile the daughter she’d known and loved with the woman history told her to fear and revile. The modern world expected her to condemn her daughter’s actions, and she did, but not any more than she condemned Henry’s. At first, she only shared that frustration with Maria, so conditioned was she into restraining her tongue and guarding her thoughts. The others had taught her how to be vulnerable, how to lean on them as they returned the favor, as they were as steadfast, unwavering, implacable as the Infanta Catalina de Trastámara y Trastámara.

Catalina placed a gentle hand on Mary’s upper arm. She began, “My love, allow me to introduce my goddaughter, Lady Catherine Parr. Cathy, this is my daughter, Princess Mary.”

Leave it to Catalina to hide a message in plain sight. Mary didn’t remember being queen and as such would not expect to be referred to as anything other than her previous titles. For now, that was probably for the best. 

She curtsied lightly, being mindful of Mae, “It’s wonderful to see you again, Your Highness.” Mary flushed at the recognition, but showed no recollection of or familiarity with Cathy. It narrowed down her age even further. Cathy was increasingly confident that Mary was probably the age she’d been when Catalina had died. 

“I’m sorry I don’t remember you, Lady Parr. From what my mother has already shared, I have forgotten much,” the princess deftly disclosed. 

The sixth queen was quick to reply, “I’m sure there are many questions you need answered. I only hope to be of use.”

Anna interjected, “Cathy is our resident expert on just about everything. She was our best resource when we were first adapting.” She patted Cathy confidently on the back and offered a squeeze of support. Anna was always tactile with touch, which Cathy appreciated. 

Mary considered this. “I’m certain I will take you up on that proposal.” A pause. “I do not wish to presume, Lady Parr, but I understand you were also married to my father. I’ve already been surprised to discover a Prince of Wales this morning. Is this another sibling I am yet to meet?”

Cathy hugged Mae a little tighter and considered her words carefully, “The only children I was blessed to have with your father were Your three Highnesses. After the king passed I remarried and she is a result of that union.” 

She looked for any hints into Mary’s thoughts, good or bad, but found none as the girl nodded and said, “I see.”

There was a beat and then Catalina came to the rescue. She gestured to the baby and asked, “Cathy, may I hold her?” 

As if Cathy could ever refuse her godmother, especially when she was sporting the world’s most radiant smile?

Mae was passed over without a sound, just as content in Catalina’s arms as she’d been in Cathy’s and Anne’s so far. Surely this peace couldn’t last, but for a moment Cathy entertained the possibility she’d given birth to the world’s chillest infant. Anne would get a kick out of that.

“There you go baby. Say hi to Aunt Lina. She’s Mummy’s godmother,” cooed Cathy. She rubbed the heel of Mae’s covered foot and watched her wiggle in reaction.

“She’s gorgeous  _ mija _ !” exclaimed Catalina. “Hello Mae. Mummy’s right. I’m your Auntie Lina. I love you.” The oldest queen heaped praise on the newborn and showed her proudly to her daughter.

Mary grinned. Mae really was a cute baby. She observed, “She’s very calm. I thought infants were supposed to be much more unsettled. Elizabeth unquestionably was” Eddie opportunely voiced his agreement and set upon wailing in Jane’s arms. His mother hurried to comfort him and Cathy braced for Mae to spook, but she just blinked up at the blurry faces crowding her. If her cousin needed to express himself, it was none of her business.

“She’s your perfect miniature Cathy. I bet her mind is already filled with facts to share,” vaunted Catalina cheerfully. Cathy knew what Catalina was doing. Her daughter was no less welcome than the royal Tudor children and for that she was thankful. 

“You flatter us both Catalina.”

The floorboards creaked above them, drawing everyone’s attention up, then over to the staircase. Anne had Elizabeth on her hip and carried herself like she had at court. Her back was ramrod straight, her head forward facing, her face devoid of emotion. She’d gotten dressed and chosen a shirt with a high neckline. Cathy knew her better than anyone else. Anne didn’t want to appear vulnerable at this moment and that included exposing her scar to Mary. 

All things considered, it was an impressive demonstration. Anne put Lizzie down when they reached the landing and made to grab her daughter’s hand, but Lizzie apparently didn’t get the memo.

As soon as her little feet were on the ground she ran towards her older sister and launched herself into Mary’s expectant arms, demanding, “Mary! Up please!”

The queens froze. Eddie continued his frustrations.

“Elizabeth! There you are imp,” Mary teased affectionately. 

Naturally it was Anna who broke the tension. She chuckled and acknowledged, “Well that’s obviously Liz.”

Anne smiled and the room relaxed. She followed Lizzie’s path and found herself in front of the princesses. She dipped low, hoping it would appease the younger woman. Humbly, she greeted, “Your Highness.”

“Your Majesty.”

“It’s just Anne now,” Anne corrected gently. She’d officially shed that title when Henry had her head liberated from her neck. While the queens and ladies sometimes joked around everyone was content to remove those stylings from their vocabularies, even Anna and Catalina. Although, Anne had convinced Cathy to engage in some delightful roleplays themed around their former stations, which was neither here nor there presently.

“My Mama’s here Mary,” boasted Lizzie. She pointed a pudgy hand in Anne’s direction who could not help, but catch it and press it to her mouth for a kiss. She couldn’t care less about scolding Elizabeth for the gesture.

Mary brushed a dark curl behind one of Lizzie’s ears. “I see her. I hope you haven’t been giving her too much trouble.”

Lizzie protested, “No I’m good!” 

Mary hushed, “Shh, I believe you. You’re usually a very good girl. Someone else is here, someone I’d very much like you to meet.” Catalina must have known that to be her cue because she sought Cathy’s eyes, then passed Mae to Anna and made her way back to her daughter’s side. “Elizabeth, I’m very proud to present to you, my mother, Catherine of Aragon.”

Aragon was overjoyed. All she had wanted was to provide Mary with siblings. To see her interact with Elizabeth, even though Elizabeth wasn’t Catherine’s own, was rewarding in its own way. 

“Aragon?” questioned Elizabeth. That didn’t sound like any place in England. At least nowhere she knew of. 

“Please  _ mija.  _ I’m your Aunt Catherine little one. I’ve been told so much about you,” Catherine animatedly disclosed. 

“Hi!”

Catalina reached for Anne and pulled her close, signaling to Mary matters were thoroughly different now, contrasting severely with the princess’s memories. 

On the sofa Jane was clearly frazzled and looked to Katherine for some assistance. The pink queen shrugged and began to hum under her breath. She motioned for Jane to transfer Edward into her outstretched arms. At this point, Seymour was willing to get creative. She passed her son to the young woman. After a strained few seconds the prince finally settled in Kitty’s arms.

Cathy looked around in admiration and awe. She knew this tranquility would not and could not last in the house much longer, that there were upsetting conversations to be had all around, but for a moment everything was perfect. She took Mae back from Cleves and cradled her daughter against her chest. 

It was Howard who brought them all back on track. “I suppose we should discuss what’s going on,” she started.

“It’s pretty obvious right? The kids are back.” 

Kitty snarked, “Can’t get anything past you Anna.”

In return, Anna antagonized, “You’re on thin ice Kit!” It was all in good fun. Anna, and everyone else, loved how bold Katherine had become in this life, finally unafraid to say and do as she pleased. 

“Ladies please focus on what’s on hand,” reminded Catalina.

In unison they apologized, “Sorry Lina.”

Cathy spoke up, “I know we have much to discuss, but the sake of expediency I think the first priority should be procuring some essentials. At the minimum we need formula, bottles, nappies, and spare clothes for the little ones.” She had quickly realized there was nothing in the house appropriate for Mae or Eddie and they would need to eat sooner rather than later. 

Jane agreed, “Cathy’s right. Is everyone comfortable with postponing a proper discussion of what the household wants moving forward until these items are purchased?”

“Sure. Kit and I can run to the store and grab some basics,” volunteered Anna. She fished her phone out of her back pocket to make a list. “Hang on, Bessie’s calling me right now. Should I let her know what we’ve got here?”

The consensus was yes, as all the queens nodded or spoke their assent.

“Hello? You’ll never guess what happened! Hm? Oh, you guessed it.” Anna visibly deflated, almost saddened that Bessie had anticipated the topic. “How’d you know? Really? Yeah I think you better come over too. I’ll let them know. Bye.”

For those only getting Anna’s side of the conversation it was quite a breakneck turn of events. By the time they processed she had already hung up.

Anne needed to know what had been said. She prompted, “So? Why was she calling?”

Cleves offered, “Henry Fitzroy showed up at their place this morning.”

“Just Fitzroy?” came Jane’s voice from the sofa. 

“I guess? She didn’t say anything else.”

“What about Maria, Maggie, and Joan though? What of their children?” It was Catalina who asked that time. Undoubtedly, she was wondering specifically about Maria’s daughter, Catherine Willoughby. 

Cathy was similarly curious. The baroness had been her friend and allegedly Mae’s guardian upon Thomas’s execution.

Anna huffed, “What did I just say?”

Catalina was quick to catch her mistake, “Right sorry. Alright, well there’s no point going into anything now if we’ll have to do it all over again when they get here. In the meantime, the two of you should be off to the closest shop. Like Cathy said, we’ll need formula, bottles, nappies, and some spare outfits for these three. We’ll compile additional lists until you get back and we can speak all ten of us. And our new arrivals.” 

With Lina taking charge, Anna and Kitty were prompt in their actions. Eddie was returned to his mother so Katherine could find her shoes and then they were scampering out the door. It closed with an excited slam and the remaining queens were left with their children.


	4. Preparations

“Can we please play now Mary?” begged Elizabeth. She’d slumped her head onto her sister’s chest and was tugging on a shoulder-length braid. All this standing around and talking was getting unbearably boring. 

Mary looked to Anne for approval. Without a governess, she presumed all decisions to be made on Elizabeth’s behalf defaulted back to her mother.

Anne was baffled that Mary had sought her blessing. After all, Mary had been with Elizabeth daily as a member of the household at Hatfield. As much as Anne had involved herself with Elizabeth’s life, and admittedly it was a larger involvement than anticipated for a queen consort, it was Mary and not Anne who had seen to Elizabeth’s more immediate needs. And Mary didn’t even like Anne! Surely she didn’t care to listen to Anne if she decided to say no.

Boleyn merely nodded her head. Upsetting Mary within an hour of her arrival was a guaranteed awful idea, one sure to stagnate any prospective clemency.

Mary hiked Lizzie up higher on her hip and said, “Alright how about we go run around the yard a little? Let’s get some of your morning dizzies out.”

“Yeah!”

Catalina reminded, “We still need to talk, my love.”

“And we will Mama. Once everyone returns or arrives Elizabeth and I will come back in. Won’t we imp?” Mary reassured.

“Right Mary! Don’t worry Auntie!” charmed Elizabeth. She smiled toothily for added effect.

Catalina lifted one immaculate eyebrow. She regarded the pair and declared, “Oh she’s very good at that. She definitely gets it from you Anne.”

Boleyn radiated pride at receiving such a compliment. She encouraged, “Well go on then. We’ll be here when you tire yourself out.”

The duo made their way out of the room towards the back door. And then there were six.

“We should get researching then. I’ll need my laptop and a notepad,” started Cathy. “I guess we need to head back to Mummy’s room baby girl.” She directed that last comment to Mae, who of course didn’t respond, but she did look very cute while not doing it. 

Anne interjected, “I can grab those things babe. Don’t want you jostling this little angel.” She had cuddled up behind Parr and playfully tapped Mae’s teensy nose. “Yes aren’t you just the cutest baby girl in the whole wide world?”

Cathy leaned back into her girlfriend and watched Mae try to focus her eyes on Anne. The two of them were undeniably mesmerizing. If there wasn’t still so much uncertainty surrounding that morning’s events, Cathy would happily observe the two of them for hours on end, maybe even hold Lizzie in her arms during. As it were, she knew Anne would have difficulty finding unused notepads in her room-neither of them could be described as the most organized member of the household-and suggested a counteroffer to expedite the process. 

“How about you hold Mae, while I get our necessary instruments? You know I’m painstakingly fastidious when it comes to my pens and books.”

Anne eagerly plucked Mae out of Cathy’s arms and kissed the newborn’s cheek. She happily hummed, “I would love to darling. Mae and I are going to have so much fun while we await your return. Isn’t that so precious?”

The infant simply blinked bewitchingly in Anne’s direction. 

“Okay Mummy will be right back baby,” promised Cathy. She caressed Mae with care and pressed a kiss to the beanie-covered crown. For good measure, Cathy gave Anne a kiss as well and whispered in her ear, “Right back.”

Then Cathy was off, briskly taking the stairs and disappearing behind her bedroom door. 

“Anne would you mind bringing Mae over? I’ve yet to see her,” demurred Jane. She had gotten Eddie to close his eyes, but was hesitant to move and agitate him again. 

“Of course. Let’s go meet your Auntie Jane,” Anne cheerily said. She plopped herself onto the sofa and propped Mae up in her lap. She nudged a little arm and waved it at the third queen.

Seymour murmured, “I was a little anxious, but she’s nearly identical to Cathy.” 

Anne reassuringly pulled Mae closer. Jane would know better than her if the child showed any physical resemblance to her father and mercifully left his name unsaid. 

Catalina placed a hand on Anne’s shoulder and comforted, “You’re here now, not him. She’ll love you like you love her.”

Anne worried, “Am I that obvious?” She knew she needed to discuss all of this with Cathy, but everything was moving too quickly for them to have a moment to do so. 

“You look at Mae the way you look at Lizzie, but no, it’s not that noticeable. It’s easily explained away by your excitement. I would still recommend a conversation sooner rather than later,” advised Catalina sagely. She’d watched their partnership blossom as both women had learned to trust another person with all the intimate details of their past and present lives. Anne and Cathy had shown all of them how to have a healthy relationship.

“When Cath gets back down here, would you mind watching Mae so we can have that conversation?” Anne inquired. There would be no way to pull Cathy away once she started her fact-finding investigation into modern child-rearing, so anything that needed to be said existed in an expeditiously closing window of time.

Before Catalina could respond a faint yelp sounded from the backyard. Anne secured Mae against her chest and urgently marched towards the back of the house with Aragon right behind her. 

They found Mary on the back patio cradling Lizzie in her arms and whispering reassurances into her sister’s ear. Anne’s eyes frantically searched Lizzie’s body, looking for the source of her daughter’s pain. Lizzie continued to wail and in sympathy Mae began to pout as well. She broke out into a blaring shriek, drawing the crouching duo’s attention.

“Mama!” cried Lizzie, reaching out for Anne in despair.

Anne was spurred into action upon hearing her name. She dropped onto the ground and let Elizabeth crawl onto her lap, staying mindful of Mae’s fussing body. She kissed the tears trailing down Lizzie’s face and gently shushed both children. She soothingly promised, “Mama’s here. It’s okay babies. Mama’s here.”

Miraculously, they both calmed themselves down. Anne dried Mae’s cheeks and kissed Lizzie’s forehead. At this point, their screams had turned into whimpers. 

Anne kept her voice low and light, “Can you tell Mama what happened princess?” 

“I fell!” 

“We were running around and she tripped. I’m so sorry!” Mary regretfully explained.

“It was an accident. Please don’t be too hard on yourself,” said Anne. “How about we go wash up hmm? Does that sound good baby?” Anne addressed the last part towards Lizzie, who sniffled and morosely bobbed her head. 

They stood up and pivoted in the direction of the house while Catalina made to comfort Mary further. Cathy was standing in the doorway.

“I heard crying. Is everything okay?” she asked. She breathed like she’d run from her room and Anne thought she probably had. 

“Everything’s okay. Lizzie had a tumble and that unsettled Mae a little.”

Cathy squeezed one of Mae’s hands. “Is that so Elizabeth?” She’d been so afraid when she’d first heard the two of them start to cry. They were loud enough to filter through her open window and she’d rushed back to the ground floor with all of her things jumbled in her arms, barely stopping to drop them on a side table, before following the noise to the yard. While it wasn’t a deep scratch, it still set Cathy on edge. She and the rest of the queens and ladies were all too familiar with the importance of practicing consistent wound cleansing.

The toddler confirmed, “I hurt my hand.” She held it up for added effect, displaying a red scrape flecked with grass and dirt. 

“I bet once Mama cleans that you’ll feel much better sweetheart,” Parr consoled. She knew Elizabeth wanted her mother’s undivided attention and motioned for Anne to hand Mae over, which was done wordlessly. Anne blew Mae a kiss, then hoisted Lizzie onto her hip and brought her to the ground floor’s bathroom.

While she handled Lizzie’s cut, Cathy, Mae, Catalina, and Mary returned to the sitting room.

“What happened?” interrogated Jane.

“Lizzie fell and scraped her hand. Anne’s taking care of her right now,” Aragon responded. 

Mary had been heartened enough to mutely settle herself on the other side of the sofa Jane and Edward were presently occupying. She lovingly looked over at Edward, already smitten with her baby brother. Aragon in turn settled herself in the upholstered chair usually reserved for her and pulled out her cell phone. She would also need to make a list of items to buy for Mary, but speculated that some items’ purchase would need to be approved by her daughter. 

Before Cathy could put Mae down and boot up her laptop there was a knock at the front door. She opened it to discover Bessie, Joan, Maggie, Maria, and a teenage boy. 

The boy had short, black hair and brooding, sunken eyes. He was broad-shouldered and much taller than her and Bessie, but that wasn’t really saying much. He was pale everywhere except his cheeks, which were tinged pink. 

So this was Henry Fitzroy. Cathy noted the lack of anyone else new, then stepped aside for their guests. 

The quintet made their way inside quickly. Maria immediately pulled Catalina up and into a hug, whispering something in her ear. Joan walked over to Jane, while Maggie chose to hover by Cathy because Anne had yet to join them. Bessie stood awkwardly next to her son, almost as if she wasn’t sure how to explain who he was. 

After a pause she announced, “Everyone, this is my son. 

He cleared his throat.

She sighed, “I present His Grace, the Duke of Richmond and Somerset.” She said it as though there had already been an exhausting conversation surrounding this introduction, which must have happened given how Bessie had instantly shifted to what Fitzroy had wanted.

So that was interesting. Cathy wondered if he was just being stubborn or if there was something more, something deeper going on. From what she remembered, Fitzroy had died while still a teenager in the summer of 1536. It really had been a terrible year for all. 

There was movement in the corner of her eye. Anne and Lizzie had returned.

Boleyn approached her best friend with her daughter in her arms and timidly asked, “Mags? Did any of them…?” She trailed off, noticing how alone Maggie looked. She tightly gripped Maggie’s hand in her own. It wasn’t fair. Anne had one of her children back. Didn’t Maggie deserve at least the same?

“I’m okay. There were nine of them. How could I choose?” Maggie simplified. “I certainly wouldn’t have been able to care for them. It’s just not meant to be this time.” Her voice had started to shake.

Anne pulled her into a blistering, one-armed hug and softly coaxed, “Come here. I’m so sorry.” She’d been so caught up in the excitement of finding Mae and Lizzie that she hadn’t even bothered to consider if her oldest friend was also reuniting with her children.

Maggie attempted numbly, “Really Nan, I’m not all that sure I want to be a mother this time. I think it’s more of the shock of it all.” 

Once the feverishness of the moment calmed down considerably Maggie truly believed she’d come to her senses and declare she was genuinely okay with how everything had happened. She was so profoundly thankful for her ability to independently earn money, but she knew there was no way she would have been able to support even half of her children on just her show salary. What was the point in bringing them back if they’d just have to struggle to survive again?

“Still, I’m here. When you’re ready, we’ll talk. Okay?” requested Anne. Maggie had been with Anne until the very end in their last lives. Anne would do whatever she could for her most loyal friend, one she thought of as a sister.

Maggie managed a small smile. She agreed, “Okay. In the meantime, I think I’m due an introduction.” She gestured towards Elizabeth who’d stayed quiet during the previous interaction.

“Of course. Princess, this is Mama’s sister, your Aunt Maggie. Can you say hello?” Anne prompted. She took the hand without a plaster on it and waved it in Maggie’s direction.

Lizzie boisterously greeted, “Hi Aunt Maggie.” She leaned away from her mother, nearly jumping into Maggie’s surprised arms.

“Hello Elizabeth,” Maggie laughingly replied, making sure to secure the wriggling toddler. She’d held this little girl four hundred and eighty three years prior after watching Anne take her last breath. Seeing that Elizabeth didn’t recognize her, Maggie hoped the child had also forgotten the trajectory her life had taken immediately following Anne’s murder or better yet knew nothing of Anne’s untimely demise and assigned the blame of their latest separation to the typical breaks necessitated by court.

“Mama can we read now?” proposed Lizzie. Now that her hand was better she was looking forward to doing all of her favorite things with her mother and obviously that included exploring new stories. Lizzie could now read to Anne, which was much more fun because she could show all the new words she learned and what they meant.

Maggie deferred to Anne, “Nan?” Decisions needed to be made and it would probably be in their best interests if Lizzie was adequately distracted.

Anne told her daughter, “Mama needs to talk with your aunties about something very important baby, so we can read in a little while. Mama will find you something in the meantime though. Okay?

Lizzie pouted, her bottom lip jutting out and the beginning of new tears forming in her big, beautiful eyes.

“I know it’s not ideal,  _ mon coeur,  _ but everyone has come over to speak with Mama. And the sooner we begin, the sooner we finish. Then you and I will read whatever your little heart desires,” Anne added judiciously. 

Elizabeth had inherited both of her parents’ tempers, which could only mean the assured destruction of whomever crossed her path. Anne didn’t want to find herself in her daughter’s crosshairs on such a momentous day, especially if the anger was coming from a place of confusion rather than outright frustration. 

Luckily, the promise was adequately enticing because Lizzie consented to the delay in one on one time. Now all Anne needed was a relatively appropriate distraction. She didn’t exactly have a lot of children’s paperbacks laying around.

Jane must have predicted Anne’s dilemma because she called over, “I think there’s a couple of books Lizzie might enjoy in my room.”

Perfect! Jane and Anna had both struggled with reading when they’d first returned, seeing as Jane had never had formal training and Anna had only picked up the verbal aspect of English in the years after her divorce. They’d collaborated with Cathy and Catalina, who had experience with plotting someone’s educational path and learning multiple foreign languages respectively. Jane had held onto some of her earlier favorites now that they’d improved considerably and moved onto more advanced works.

“I’ll just pop right up and grab a couple that catch my eye then. Stay here with Aunt Maggie princess,” instructed Anne. 

She bounded up the stairs and skittered across the landing towards Jane’s room. She glanced around, noting the identical Moses basket, before spotting the bookcase under the window sill. She perused the titles and haphazardly selected a few she thought would satisfactorily hold her daughter’s attention, including one that seemingly revolved around a stuffed bear’s birthday.

Anne collected her selections and bustled back down to the sitting room. Maggie was on the floor with Lizzie in her lap, the toddler no doubt elucidating why she was sporting a plaster on her hand judging by the rapid gesticulations. Everyone else had settled on some surface and were either conversing about the morning’s events or hunched over a device investigating which pram model offered the best combination of comfort, maneuverability, and acceptable pricing. 

Except for the duke. He was standing by himself in front of the mantle, a framed picture in his hand. It was of all ten of them enjoying last year’s hearty Christmas dinner in the room over. He looked sad, almost as if he’d never seen such natural and unfiltered joy on the faces of others. They’d have to unpack everything he was feeling-or at least attempt it if he was as averse to sharing as most of them had been at first-at a later time. 

She joined Maggie on the floor and handed the book on the top of the stack over to Lizzie. Her daughter redirected her attention and eagerly opened the storybook. 

From her chair Catalina called the room to order. “Kat and Anna should be on their way back by now. When they return I think we should attempt to better understand the circumstances that have led us here,” she insisted. 

That made sense to Anne.

From the sofa Cathy piped up, “We should also try to determine how old everyone is and how we can best adapt to this unexpected company.”

“What do you mean by that second point Parr?” asked Joan from the carpet. 

“Both our houses now have more people than bedrooms. We might have to consider branching out by either finding larger places or splitting or households,” explained Cathy somberly.

Maria admitted, “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Judging from the faces around the room, Anne was confident that only Cathy and Catalina had. She herself had patently skipped that step in considering their futures in the last hour. Now that she was faced with the limitations of their space, however, she was concerned. The queens had solely occupied what they’d affectionately nicknamed ‘The Palace’ since reincarnating and likewise the ladies had ‘The Ladies’ Choice’ (Joan and Maggie had binged movie musicals for weekends on end in that first year and the reference to Hairspray had stuck ever since). How could they choose to leave the only truly space spaces they’d ever inhabited or otherwise separate themselves?

Before anyone else could launch in and give their opinion, Anna and Kitty were scrambling through the front door with bags piled high. The adults jumped up to help and sort the newest purchases into piles for Lizzie, Eddie, and Mae, as well as a general one for shared items like nappies. 

Anna knelt down in front of Mary and pulled out a small box from the last bag. She began, “Your Highness, I noticed you were missing something.” She removed the lid to reveal a delicate cross on a golden chain. 

Mary gasping, choking on her gratitude. She tried, “Thank you, my Lady-.”

“Just Cleves or Anna love. I’m not much of a lady this go around,” the German joked. 

Cathy didn’t expect to feel such an emotional response to Anna’s gesture. She sensed the familiar tightness at the back of her throat and looked up to the ceiling in order to blink back the wetness collecting in the corners of her eyes. 

“Thank you Anna. It was very kind of you to think of me,” corrected Mary. She hesitatingly picked the necklace up and turned the clasp over in her hands. “Mama would you?”

Aragon pinched the pin and lifted the strand to her daughter’s delicate neck before rebuckling the fastener and letting it fall. She smiled, “It’s beautiful  _ mija. _ Thank you for thinking of her Anna.”

“Course. Had to get something for every newly arrived member of the family. Here’s yours Fitz,” Anna continued. She reached back into the bag and retrieved a polished silver and mahogany knife handle. She demonstrated that it required no scabbard, as the blade folded in on itself.

The boy remarked humbly, “This gift is well pleasing. Thank you.” He grasped it firmly in his hand and ignored the nickname in respect of Anna’s offering.

Anna was good at that, endearing herself to others through presents. Kitty had once joked that giving gifts must be Anna’s actual first language instead of German and in a way it was true. It’s not like Anna was incapable of other methods though. She was an incredible listener and could sense when to offer a hug. She was the first one to crack some tension with a joke and there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for her loved ones. They were all lucky to have a sister, friend, and aunt like Anna.

Anne took stock of the room. They were finally all present. She suggested, “Should we get to it then?”


	5. Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I just want to thank everyone for sticking with this and posting encouraging comments. I haven't been this excited about writing in a long time and it's amazing to put pages upon pages of dialogue into a concrete storyline.

“Perhaps it will be easiest to determine how old each of them are,” suggested Jane. She had been thoroughly scrutinizing Edward from the second he’d woken her up that morning and was fairly confident she knew his age, especially after seeing the other four.

Kitty snorted, “That’s gotta be less complicated than determining why they’re here. It’s not like we ever figured it out for us.”

Leave it to Katherine to point that out. Try as they might over the last three years, none of them were much closer to unraveling the mystery surrounding their second lives and it seemed increasingly likely they would simply never know why they had been chosen for this unprecedented opportunity. Whether it were fate, providence, or some fortuitous glitch in the makeup of the universe, they had long put aside the fear that this return was temporary. All it ever did was weigh them down.

“I was nineteen when I went to sleep last night. Then I woke up here. Should I expect to be younger now like all of you?” Mary wondered. 

“Technically I’m the oldest I’ve ever been,” Kitty mumbled under her breath, but those who heard ignored her comment. There was no denying its truth, which usually stung with the reminder that she’d been killed so young and had suffered so much in the years leading up to her execution. Nevertheless, this exchange wasn’t about her.

Cathy pressed the conversation on, “You’re nineteen? What month was it? When did you last see Catalina?” Catalina had died a month before Mary’s twentieth birthday, yet the teenager was remarkably composed for someone who was reuniting with their recently deceased mother.

“It’s been years,” Mary began tearfully. “You know Papa won’t let me visit you unless I agree that your marriage is invalid and you’re not the true queen! I can’t betray you like that Mama.” She dropped her head into her hands to cut her sobs off.

Catalina wrapped Mary up tightly in her arms and did her best to console her daughter. She whispered, “None of that matters anymore _mi querida_. He will never hurt you again, I promise.” 

Anne looked on, torn between feeling pity for Mary’s suffering and everlasting shame towards her former self for contributing to the adolescent’s pain. Her actions had directly contributed to this moment. After all, wasn’t it she who had hounded Henry to demand Mary’s obedience? Shouldn’t she still carry the weight of the rightfully earned guilt? Hadn’t she felt threatened by the princess’s existence even after having Elizabeth? 

Elizabeth. She’d dropped her book when Mary had started crying. Resolutely, she pulled herself out of Maggie’s lap and waddled over to her sister’s shaking form. 

She tugged on the sleeve of Mary’s jumper and implored, “Don’t cry sissy. Everything’s okay.”

Mary shifted her head in Lizzie’s direction, choking up at her sister’s display of affection. It further proved Elizabeth was innocent in all this, that for all the agony and torment Mary endured at the hands of her step-mother, Elizabeth was blameless and, equally important, nothing like Anne.

Catalina moved so Mary could face the toddler.

“Come here imp.”

Elizabeth was scooped into a tight embrace, one she easily returned. They cuddled in the dead silence as the rest of the room looked on.

“I love you always Elizabeth,” swore Mary. She cupped a chubby cheek and kissed the crown of the child’s head. 

Elizabeth shared the sentiment, “Love you always.”

Mary sighed. She knew her little emotional moment had halted the entire conversation. She put Lizzie back on the ground and instructed, “I’m feeling much better now thanks to you. You can go back to your book.”

Lizzie smiled at the praise. She toddled back towards Anne, who opened her arms and allowed her daughter back in her lap, the previously discarded storybook now returning to her hands.

Anne kissed Lizzie’s head and murmured, “Good job baby.”

Catalina brushed a couple of errant tears away for her daughter. Unfortunately, the next question they needed answered could equally upset Mary.

She asked it anyway, “What was yesterday’s date?”

“January 6th.”

There was a collective gasp from all of the adults. They were well-versed in each other’s death dates by now. Catalina died the next morning and Mary would be prevented from attending the funeral. 

“What? Have I missed something?” puzzled Mary. She was starting to get sick and tired of always being at least a step behind.

Everyone looked to Catalina for the explanation. They didn’t want to be the one to divulge this information.

“I died the next day, January 7th,” Catalina disclosed carefully. “And if it’s any comfort, Maria was with me in the end. I wasn’t alone.” She reached for Maria’s outstretched hand and squeezed it. She would always be grateful for her friend’s last demonstration of devotion in their first lives. 

Mary was on the verge of tears again. Defeated, she admitted, “But I wasn’t.”

“There was nothing you could do Mary.”

This time it was Maria who had spoken up. She’d spent innumerable nights assuaging Catalina’s guilt over her hand in Mary’s continued defiance of the king’s wishes. She’d point out for all the obedience a child owed their father, Mary couldn’t be expected to forsake her mother or God in the name of a petulant child turned king’s fancy. She wouldn’t allow Mary to feel correspondingly responsible for being extorted out of her final years with Catalina. 

Mary apologized anyway, “I’m so sorry Mama. I couldn’t lie. I had to live up to the image of a proper princess you knew I could be.”

“Oh get over yourself. You’ve been a bastard for a couple of years, while I’ve been one my entire life. Maybe if you followed the will of your sovereign for once you could have seen your mother or even been a duchess!” came Fitzroy’s outburst from across the room.

“Listen here you little shit, she’s been a bloody princess from the day of her birth, no matter what her father said, and one day she’s going to be the queen-”

“Jane!” interjected Anna. It was one thing to call the boy out on his terrible opinion. It was another to let slip Mary’s future, especially before Catalina had been able to explain it.

Slack-jawed the princess fumbled, “I was still queen?” 

“Ah shit,” Joan commented tastefully. She really had a way of conveying everyone else’s emotions. 

Cathy thought they must all be thinking along the same line. This was certainly about to complicate everything even more.

Unluckily, the shouts had woken Eddie and Mae from bouts of restfulness they’d taken to in their mothers’ arms. The infants let out twin screeches throwing the entire room into further chaos. The din rang in everyone’s ears as Jane and Cathy ventured to calm their newborns. Bessie had pulled her son to the side, reprimanding him for rebuking his older sister in front of everyone in such a manner. Mary was staring at Catalina and Maria with an unreadable expression. As the room continued to burst at the seams with noise Lizzie began to fuss in Anne’s lap and complained to her mother about the climbing commotion. What pandemonium!

“Maybe we should reconvene once everyone settles down!” advocated Kitty from the corner. She was holding her hands over her ears protectively. 

In unison Cathy and Jane projected, “Deal!” and took off for their bedrooms. The cries, while muffled from the distance, could still be heard. Bessie was still scolding Fitzroy’s lack of manners or basic kindness, but Elizabeth was somewhat mollified. She reached a little hand up and tugged on her ear. Anne remembered this to be a sign of irritation and that the best course of action would be a short nap.

Affectionately, Anne curled Lizzie close to her chest and observed, “Getting tired _mon amour_?”

“No Mama,” she declared. What a little liar.

Anne swayed side to side and revised tactics. She confessed, “Well I’m tired. Will you keep me company in bed while I nap?”

Lizzie nodded and agreed. “Okay Mama.”

“Thank you. Help me up Mags.”

Maggie allowed Anne to shift Lizzie to one arm before reaching down and boosting them both up.

Once righted on her feet Anne pressed an appreciative palm to Maggie’s upper arm. She continued to rock Elizabeth back and forth and encouraged her daughter to lay her head on her shoulder. 

She mouthed, “I’ll be upstairs.”

She gently took the steps one at a time, doing her best not to jolt Elizabeth’s small body in the process, while listening to determine how safe that floor now was. Remarkably, Eddie and Mae must have been appeased because she would be hard-pressed to convince a passing stranger there were currently two newborns on that level. As she made her way to the landing and took a breath she ran into Cathy exiting her room. 

“Is she asleep?” Cathy whispered.

“Just about there I think.”

Cathy hesitated, then asked, “Would you like to tuck her in here? Mae’s down.”

“Yeah that’d be great Cath. Better than another flight of stairs,” Anne smiled. Cathy was so cute when she was tender-which was just about always, no matter what Cathy argued contrarily.

Cathy retreated back into the room and pulled up the sheets from the unmade bed. Had they really been asleep in it less than two hours ago?

Anne laid Lizzie down, carefully removed the arms around her neck, and tenderly stroked the serene face now snuggling into a pillow. She could see Mae snoozing in the Moses basket, once again wrapped in her blanket. Cathy placed a hand on Boleyn’s shoulder and in that instant her heart soared, never before having felt this full. She wanted this forever. She needed to let Cathy know of her intentions.

As if reading her mind, Cathy posed, “What are you thinking Annie?

Anne turned back to her girlfriend. This was it. All morning these thoughts had been culminating in the back of her head. She only had to put it out there.

She chickened out, “Just thinking about Lizzie.” She cringed slightly. It wasn’t technically a lie.

“Anything specific?” 

Cathy looked so damn earnest.

Anne could work her way up to what she wanted to say. They’d had much more emotionally draining conversations over the years than this one could potentially become. On the other hand, they’d never had such a definitive discussion of their future-outside of promises to love and respect one another, but even those had been somewhat abstract with the use of forever.

“She’s so young. I’ve always worried that if she came back she wouldn’t need me, that she’d be too old for me to mother her,” admitted Anne. Elizabeth’s life had been twice as long as Anne’s and Anne had come back several years younger. Today she was barely a year older than Lizzie had been when she was crowned. “Even if she does remember some things from before she could be raised like a normal twenty-first century child.”

Cathy thought aloud, “Just like Mae.”

“Just like Mae,” Anne repeated. “I was thinking about her too. How excited I am to get to know her.”

Cathy adoringly glanced over at the resting babe. She felt like her joy was splitting the boundaries of her heart, too bountiful to stay inside any longer. She agreed, “I’m excited for that too love.” 

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each watching their biological daughter take deep breaths. Occasionally they risked taking a peek at the other child in the room.

It was Boleyn who broke the lull. She walked over to Cathy’s window bench and motioned for the sixth queen to join her. It could be snug when they faced one another, so Cathy slotted herself in Anne’s arms and rested her back on her girlfriend’s chest. They breathed synchronously, still facing the other two in the room. 

“Babe, can I ask you something?”

Cathy promised, “Anything my love.” She grabbed Anne’s hands and wrapped them tighter around herself.

The green queen continued, “Did Lizzie ever call you Mama?”

Cathy wondered where Anne was going with this. She had already been given so much today, it would be selfish to hope for more, especially for something as big as what Cathy was fighting against acknowledging. She answered all the same, “No. That was always reserved for you and only when we were alone.”

“How would you feel if she called you Mum?”

Cathy tensed and leaned forward. Anne let her. 

It hung in the air. 

Anne counted the seconds as they ticked by. She considered pulling Catherine back, whispering in her ear that if they were moving too fast all she had to do was say the word and Anne would pretend this conversation never happened. 

But that wasn’t their style. They had the hard conversations, they riled each other up and had those heated arguments about Anne forgetting to buy milk or Cathy leaving the washing on the line in the garden-except those fights were never really about the little things that they said they were about. This was different though. This was categorically a Big Thing. 

“Baby please tell me what you’re thinking,” mumbled Anne into Cathy’s curls. 

“Did you really mean that?” Cathy croaked out. Her thoughts were racing and absolutely none of them made any sense.

Pressing her nose to the nape of Cathy’s neck, Anne brought herself back into Cathy’s orbit. It was where she most belonged.

“I did mean it. I still do,” she started. “I’ve been thinking about it since we confirmed Mae’s identity. You loved Lizzie like your own once upon a time and I know five hundred years hasn’t changed that a bit.”

Boleyn trailed off and perched her head on Cathy’s shoulder. She chanced a glimpse in Cathy’s direction and felt a chill run up her spine. 

She continued, “I’m going to be in your life for the rest of our days, as you will be in mine. That means you’ll be in Lizzie’s and I’ll be in Mae’s. I want…”

Cathy pivoted in Anne’s arms, tears threatening to fall again. When had she become such a sap? Probably around the time she allowed herself to feel again.

Parr encouraged, “Finish your thought love.” She wrapped her arms around Anne’s neck and pulled their foreheads together. 

With ‘ _Be bold Boleyn!’_ echoing in her head Anne replied, “I want us to raise them together, like a proper family. It’s what we all deserve.”

Cathy could feel herself giggling through her tears as well as Anne swiping each drip off her cheeks. 

They were caught up in their own world, just the two of them, when from the basket there came a sneeze. Their heads snapped quicker than Kitty’s temper-which was incidentally worse than the famed Boleyn temper now that she had the option of being something besides a docile pretty thing to look at.

Cathy crept around the bed, blissfully noting that they hadn’t also woken Elizabeth up in their not quite revelry. Mae was blinking her eyes and wrinkling her nose, apparently having surprised herself out of her nap with the well-timed sniffle. Placing a comforting hand on Mae’s chest, Cathy felt Anne slip behind her and add her hand to the basket.

“From the moment the midwives placed Elizabeth on my chest I knew my entire world had changed. There was this perfect little person looking at me like I had all the answers, like I was the only thing they could depend on, like I could never disappoint them. Even if in the previous instant I had cursed God for withholding from me my long promised son, I knew the love blossoming in me could be tested a hundred times and I would never falter,” Anne lectured.

Mae seemed undisturbed by the monologue happening above her. She closed her eyes again, content to drift in the world between sleeping and waking.

Boleyn persisted in her explanation, “But I must confess that I’ve now felt that way once again, when we found her this morning. I’ve always wondered if I might find myself capable of loving her the same way I love Lizzie, or the boys, and it’s easier than I could have hoped.” She tugged their hands off Mae’s chest and held them against her mouth. They stood silently, patiently, watchfully, over the minute life they were discussing.

Parr felt herself grow more in love with each of the hearts beating in this room. Did she really deserve to be hearing everything she’d ever wanted to hear? Hadn’t Anne already given her more than she could justify wanting, more than was reasonable to expect in life, more than she knew she should ask for?

“Back to the window then Cath?”

“Back to the window my love.” 

They marched hand in hand, settling this time with Cathy’s legs firmly wrapped around Anne’s waist. To think that they’d spent so many heart-to-hearts just like this. Anne ruefully thought that perhaps this time they wouldn’t end up tumbling into bed to finish their nattering on with altogether much fewer articles of clothing. 

“Could, could you,” Cathy stuttered before taking a steadying breath. “Could you really see Mae as your own? I won’t begrudge for needing time. I had years with Liz.” She was giving Anne an out. There was still ample opportunity to retract the previous statements.

Defending her reasoning, Anne prompted, “You had more years with her than I did. She’s your daughter too Cath, even if she doesn’t know it yet. Please don’t think I’ve decided this flippantly. I’ve given it attention all morning, on top of untold dawns, afternoons, and midnights in this room, in your bed with you in my arms.” Running her hands up Cathy’s arms and around her back, Anne emphasized each word pleadingly. Her voice shook with conviction and it reminded Cathy of the tone Anne had taken in the poems she’d written in the Tower leading up to her execution. That Anne could never be accused of not taking the circumstances seriously.

Cathy rocked into Anne, who could feel wetness accumulating on her shoulder. She shushed the blue queen, hoping Cathy was still mindful enough of the sleeping babes much too close and jointly too far away.

“You’re it for me. We both know that and there’s nothing I want more than for us to bring them up together in this house. I love you so much. Now I love Mae too. What’s more, I’m going to continue to love her and you can’t stop me,” avowed Anne austerely. 

Cathy only heard Anne promise something of this severity when they spoke of their darkest memories, deepest fears, or highest hopes. It had been sworn through tears, muttered under the cover of darkness, and left on her lips after nights of frenzied and passionate love-making; they’d been naked in body, mind, and soul; and above all, Cathy had not once doubted Anne’s sincerity, ardour, or ability to follow through. 

Parr poked her head out from the cocoon she’d created when she burrowed into her partner. She let herself get lost in Anne’s eyes, eyes glistening with assurances of love and the tiniest bit of lust. They were sitting very close together after all and muscle memory suggested this had the potential to change tone.

As the minutes dragged on, Anne felt her confidence waver. Try as she might, if Cathy wasn’t ready, there was nothing that could or should be done to alter the fact. 

Haltingly, like when they’d all first started learning how to operate the family car, Anne backtracked, “If what I’ve said has been too much too soon…”

Shaking her head, Cathy begged Anne to understand her perspective. She divulged, “It’s not the timing sweetheart. It’s just too perfect. Surely you must know the dizzying dramatics my thoughts are swinging through right now. I can hardly keep up with them all presently.” She ached to make this easier on them both, but easy was one thing she’d never been properly adept at. 

If this was about something banal, like what they would have for dinner, then it mattered little to Parr. If it was something more deserving of attention, such as Anne’s birthday present, then the planning stages and information gathering were initiated months in advance. But this? This was their future, but also not just theirs. They had two other people to consider now, even if they’d already confessed to loving them both. Could the easy and right answer be one and the same? Surely two parents in love was the correct choice.

“I can’t convince you of something you don’t want Cathy, but I think I know you well enough to argue that you want this. You’re just afraid to let yourself have it,” sagely espoused Anne. She was the current leading expert in Catherine Parr, a position Catalina had vexingly held in their first year back. With renewed spirit, Anne professed to her paramour, “I love you. I will love you forever. I’m all in. I have never known you without our girls as a part of our equation, even just in name. There is no you without Mae and no me without Lizzie and starting today, I hope there will be no me without Mae and no you without Lizzie ever again.”

_Oh fuck it already._

Surging upwards, Catherine’s lips met Anne’s. They poured into one another and flowed like the Thames on one of its lazier days in the North. This was victory, Anne was sure of it. As they pulled apart and shared the same air Anne could sense the contentment settling over them and blotting out Cathy’s nerves. There would be time to worry later. 

“So?” Anne couldn’t help, but prod diminutively. She had her answer already. She just wanted to hear Cathy say aloud, to bind this in words so precious.

Smiling like she hadn’t acknowledged profound doubt and disbelief in the moments preceding; like she wouldn’t later agonize, brood, or otherwise fret so taxingly that Anne would categorize it as self-inflicted torture; like this wasn’t possibly the most critical exchange turned resolution they’d ever had, Cathy ultimately conceded, “I want that too sweetheart. More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Anne teased, “Even more than you want me?” She tossed her hair for added effect, which was admittedly impressive because they were completely tied around one another at this point.

“Yes even more!” laughed Cathy. She nuzzled against Anne, murmuring quietly into the tear-stained blouse, “I love you so much. I love our girls.”

“Our girls. That’s the best thing you’ve ever said babe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Mae is probably the world's most convenient baby and Lizzie is too precocious to be real, but I'd like to think traveling through space and time can exhaust a little body into silence or being well-behaved and perceptive of another's feelings, if only for a couple of hours. I promise they'll become more realistic as the story progresses. I'm thinking at the minimum two more chapters should follow this one. Also massive shout out to hypermobile_theatre_mutant for their theory on Fitzroy last chapter. It's absolutely where I'm going with his character for the time being and I hope to do that justice.


	6. Movements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that there is a CW regarding Thomas Seymour and Catherine Parr's actions towards Elizabeth. It's mentioned briefly at the beginning of the chapter.

“Our girls. That’s the best thing you’ve ever said babe.”

Anne was so grateful that they had come to this conclusion. She hadn’t even noticed it settling on her chest, but a weight had been lifted. It was replaced with a lightness she couldn’t remember feeling before. She was no fool. She knew caring for a toddler and a baby would be difficult, especially without all the servants she’d been afforded during Lizzie’s first life, but in a way that was better. She knew this time she would be responsible for her children’s daily welfare. No matter how scary that fact was-and it was mind-numbingly scary, was the kind of stuff to keep Anne awake for all hours if she allowed it to-she would get to spend every day with both of her girls as they grew. 

_ Both of her girls. _

What an amazing sentiment.  **What a terrifying sentiment.** She’d been an awful step-mother. Anne had no counterarguments to make in her favor and surely the teenager downstairs would offer plenty of evidence as confirmation. At least she could learn from someone who was known for her maternal prowess. 

It was a good thing Anne was confident in Cathy’s abilities because Parr was wrestling with her own demons internally. She’d always cared for children after they’d grown up a bit, so a toddler and a baby were more than overwhelming. Even then, she’d been a parent in the economic bracket where you coordinated their education and allowed the governess to supervise the rest. For all the physical time she hadn’t spent with them, she hoped they had still felt her love.

More than anything, though, she hadn’t been able to keep her children safe. Margaret had died young, about two years before Cathy herself. John, Margaret’s brother, had fallen down a dark, violent road, with at least one historian theorizing that Cathy had tempered his nature in her lifetime, never mind how true Cathy thought that to be. Edward Tudor died a manipulated, child king; Jane Grey had followed him soon after, sharing Anne and Kitty’s fate; and poor Mae probably hadn’t seen her third birthday. Mary had been so desperate for someone to love her, so desperate to prove herself a proper heir to her father, so desperate to right a perceived religious wrong. No reign could be bloodless, still history had marked Mary forever with the blood of her people.

But the child she had actively hurt was her-no,  _ their _ -dear Elizabeth. For the rest of her days Cathy knew she’d be atoning for first her complacency and then her participation with Thomas. She’d been so very stupid. When she’d first confessed to Anne, she’d hoped only that Anne could tolerate her continued presence in the house. She didn’t expect compassion or understanding and certainly nothing in the realm of forgiveness. By the time they’d fallen into bed together Anne had made it clear to her that only Elizabeth had the right to offer forgiveness; but Elizabeth wasn’t there and Anne was. She had seen Cathy’s contrition and resolved that this life would be about penance and redemption for the both of them. Also good sex. They’d had far too much shitty sex the first go around. 

Parr was roused from her spiraling thoughts by Anne’s admission, “This is the best day of my life.” She smiled down at Cathy, eyes twinkling in delight, and Cathy couldn’t resist kissing the accompanying smirk off her face. Anne was, as always, a willing participant. Until she wasn’t. She backed away with a severe look on her face, something deeply concerning to Cathy, and corrected, “Of my lives. Best day of my lives.”

“Warn a girl before you break a kiss and pull a face like that!” Cathy aggressively whispered with relief flooding her veins. She flicked Anne’s ear in retaliation.

Anne pouted, effectively ending Cathy’s threat to withhold further kisses. She apologized, “I’m sorry baby. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

With a good-natured huff Cathy declared, “You’re forgiven.” 

Boleyn tilted her head to one side, popped her renown half-crescent grin, and suggested, “Kiss and make up?” For added measure she’d sinfully dropped her voice an octave.

“Kiss and make up.”

The kiss was slow and building. At the back of their minds they knew the little ones were meters away, so they kept the passion at a mere simmer. There would be time for something more, something deeper later.

As they separated Anne added, “It really is the best day of my lives though. I need you to know that.”

“Mine too love. Mine too,” agreed Cathy. She’d been so convinced she’d never get to see them again, never hold them or tell them she loved them, and now they were here and almost within an arm’s reach. Nothing could compete with this level of jubilance.

Regardless, Cathy knew they only had so much time left before the girls woke from their naps and they still had much to discuss.

She began, “Their exhaustion is probably going to wear off soon.” She turned towards them, happily noting Lizzie was cuddled peacefully against a pillow.

Anne wondered, “Does that make you nervous?” It made her the teensiest bit nervous if she was honest. She’d been nervous while pregnant with Lizzie and after recovering from the initial shock, she’d stayed nervous every day until her death. To an extent, to be a parent was to worry. 

“I don’t think I’ll truly rest easy ever again,” was Cathy’s dry response. So it seemed they were on the same page then.

Pressing herself impossibly closer to Cathy, Anne teasingly mumbled, “I’ll be by your side for all of it. We can worry in shifts.”

That drew a quick grin from Cathy. Everything would be okay; Anne would make sure of it.

Somehow snuggling further into Anne, Parr expressed her gratitude with a simple, “Thank you sweetheart.” 

Their breathing had aligned again and they individually indulged in the comfort and familiarity brought on by the other.

Nevertheless, there were matters to be discussed. With a sigh Cathy brought up a connected topic, “We should probably try to figure out some logistics now while they’re still resting. We’ll eventually pick up where everyone left things downstairs. I’d prefer us to at least be theoretically prepared for the conversation.”

“Okay what do you want to tackle first babe?”

Anne was all ears. 

Responding hesitantly, Cathy proposed, “Our rooming situation moving forward?”

It was a more than fair subject for scrutiny. Although Cathy and Anne had been seriously dating for two years, they’d only had two real back-and-forths regarding sharing a space. The first time had been a fumbling affair accidentally broached soon after their one year anniversary. While the second had been more intentional, they’d both decided they currently enjoyed having distinct places in the house for each to decompress and exist as an individual. It was what they were both accustomed to from their years as queens, however, they promised to check in more frequently in the future. That had been several weeks ago.

Anne took a steadying breath and verbalized the thoughts she’d been ruminating on for some time, “Well I know we’ve been sitting on this for a while, but maybe this is the sign that we should move in together. After all, we’re raising them to be a family and nowadays most families have parents who consistently share a room and a bed.”

Cathy appreciated how tentative Anne was. This was a big decision no matter how they sliced it. 

“Not that I’m arguing we should do something just because other people are doing something, but it might be nice?” blurted Anne. She hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question at the end. “It might be nice.”

“I think I’m ready for that. I know it means we need to consolidate some of our things, but I do think it’s good timing. We’re more committed to each other than ever before,” Cathy conceded. A pause. “I bet my mother’s rolling in her vault though. The first in my family to marry into the peerage, a bloody queen for a couple of years, and now I’m living in sin with an actress.”

Anne bit back a belly-shaking laugh at the jest. She mused, “Please your mum would love me. Try my father. I’m sure he’d have sent me to the block personally if he could see me raising  _ two _ children out of wedlock with a poorly knight’s offspring. How the mighty have fallen. Tsk, tsk.” 

Cathy’s giggles bubbled over and she extradited herself from Anne’s lap in order to get a hold of her emotions. There was a part of her that intensely hoped her parents knew how happy Anne made her, but it was relieving to poke fun at them too. It made it easier to stomach the thought of them not supporting her relationship, if only from beyond the grave. She should visit them soon. It’d been some time since she’d last paid respects.

An issue for another day. Anne had gotten up as well and was stretching her cramped limbs. Once she’d been adequately extended, Anne tugged Cathy to curl up on the edge of the bed, both mindful of disturbing Lizzie.

“Mae’s compact. Her Moses basket will fit anywhere and she stays with us as long as you want. All I wanted was to keep Lizzie close when she was this small,” Anne murmured while trailing her fingers over her girlfriend’s lower thigh. She wouldn’t ever keep Cathy from their baby.

Cathy turned into the other queen’s shoulder and kissed it through the fabric. They’d both been cheated from so much time with their girls. Anne understood. 

“We could probably all fit in my room. Attic’s bigger than this.”

It was true. Anne had much more space, unquestionably enough to add a toddler’s trundle bed comfortably. At the same time, the attic wasn’t as well insulated as the rest of the house and she was constantly complaining to Anne about needing more blankets on the bed when they stayed up there. Usually that meant Anne would suggest finding an activity to keep them warm, which Cathy was unmistakably fond of, but that wouldn’t work for the second half of their quartet. Furthermore, the landing to the room was exceedingly short, barely enough to fit them both, and that didn’t sit well with Cathy now that they were responsible for a fully-mobile toddler.

“I don’t know if the attic’s the safest place for either of them, especially with Elizabeth being as lively as she is. I’d worry about her falling down the stairs,” pointed out Parr. She hoped Anne wouldn’t think she was only justifying a counterargument because she didn’t want to move out of her room.

Anne slapped her hand up to her forehead. She hadn’t even considered that possibility. There was no way to really baby-proof certain aspects of the area. Professing agreement, she stated, “You’re totally right babe. Plus I bet it’ll be a pain coming down two flights of stairs several times a night to fix Mae a bottle in the kitchen. It makes sense to keep the nappies and clothes in a centralized location so Jane can access them too.”

Of course any movement they made would affect the rest of the household. That was an important consideration to keep in mind. All choices they made could potentially ripple out to the other queens and their two children, particularly if it meant designating a currently occupied bedroom as the new nursery.

Anne felt like she could hear Cathy’s mind whirring and clicking to reach a satisfying accommodation for everyone. 

“I think I have a solution that keeps everyone in this house,” Cathy admitted slowly. The last thing she wanted was to split up the queens, their family, in order to stitch this one with Anne together. 

“I’m all ears babe.” 

“We ask Kitty and Cleves to move into your room. It’s spacious enough for two adults and they obviously get along great,” commenced Parr. She felt bad about asking the two queens without biological children to move, but reasoned it was better than facing the alternative. “We turn Kitty’s room into a nursery, where we keep all the baby gear and Lizzie will sleep. That puts her right next door to us, while also giving Jane quick access to everything as well. Maybe when Mae gets bigger we can move her in there too.”

“I imagine Catalina and Jane stay where they are? And Eddie stays with Jane?” Anne puzzled aloud.

Acknowledging with a nod, Cathy continued, “Precisely. Which leaves Mary the first floor room so she can have some privacy. As much as I’m sure she and Catalina would be happy to share, it might be best for them to have their individual spaces. I expect Mary will need some time digesting all that she’s learned this morning.”

Anne let the proposal sink in. It logically made the most sense for their current circumstances. Once the three little ones grew up a smidge it would be snug, but for the time being they could manage.

She let Cathy know she thought as much, “If we can get everyone else on board, I think this is the best possible scenario. Brilliant as always babe.”

Cathy squeezed her girlfriend’s hand to recognize the compliment. She watched the rise and fall of Lizzie’s chest, noticed the balled up fist laying on the pillow, and discerned a misting in her eyes. Anne was lazily tracing a pattern on her upper arm, eyes trained fiercely on Mae’s basket. 

She had to voice a doubt, “You’ll be okay with Lizzie being in another room? With her being away from us?”

Boleyn sighed and turned towards their toddler. She’d prefer for Lizzie to stay in the room with them, just like Mae, but that wasn’t realistic. She reminded herself Lizzie had usually slept much further away, even when they were in the same building.

She confirmed, “I’ll be okay. She’ll be right next door. Hopefully.” Anne speculated some more, “At the minimum, it’s probably a couple of days away as we get everyone resituated and order the necessary furniture for the nursery. We’ll have tonight with her in between us.” The idea made her smile. 

Leaning back, Cathy chanced a look up at Anne. She was so clearly smitten with both of their babies. How could she unabatingly love this woman more today than the day before?

“I won’t be mad if you want to keep her upstairs tonight.”

And she wouldn’t. Anne was rightfully due the chance to hold Elizabeth in her arms as they drifted asleep. She shouldn’t have to worry about Mae getting up in the middle of the night.

Anne seemed aghast Cathy would even suggest that. Hadn’t Anne made it abundantly clear that they were entering this new age as equal partners and parents?

The second queen clarified all the same, “And leave you alone to handle Mae? Not a chance Cathy. I promised you I was all in and I meant it. That means midnight feedings and dirty nappies and so much spit up in our hair. She’s as much my responsibility as Lizzie is.” Anne would not be an absent mother this time, so help her.

Cathy’s tears were falling now. She fought to keep them silent though.

Fearfully and treading lightly, she inquired, “Even though her father-”

“Eternal damnation on him! As far as I’m concerned, neither of them have a father anymore. They have a Mama and a Mummy who love them dearly,” cut off Anne. She pointed emphatically to her chest and then Parr’s respectively at the mention of their names.

For all the reasons she wanted to resurrect Thomas Seymour just to personally kill him herself, one of the highest on the (extensive) list would be his treatment of Cathy during their marriage. Her beloved was so filled with reservations now and it was partially his fault. Naturally their mutual ex-husband shared some of the blame too.

With an almost panicked whisper, Cathy questioned, “What about when Lizzie remembers Henry? I’m so nervous Anne. She doesn’t know me yet. I’m a practical stranger and the last thing I want to do is force a relationship she doesn’t want.” 

Lizzie moved in her sleep. Anne, sensing Cathy needed some space to breathe, pulled them both off the bed and towards the closed door. She positioned herself behind Cathy and held her up, murmuring softly in her ear, “We tell her the truth. He’s gone and he’s never coming back. It’ll suck, but she needs to hear it.” They swayed as Cathy caught her breath. Then, “Mae’s her sister and you’re her mum. If she still doesn’t believe us, we’ll just have to get married.”

She knew in the split second before she said it how Cathy would react. As expected, the younger queen jerked out of the embrace and turned to placate Anne, “Okay let’s pump the brakes a little. We’ve had a very tiring morning and with everything we’ve discussed you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”

Cathy loved Anne more than she thought she’d ever be capable of, but there were times where Boleyn let herself get swept up in the fantasy of this life. It was wonderful, almost revolutionary, for Anne to lean so assuredly into hope after everything she had been through. Despite that, Cathy worried about the disappointments guaranteed to follow. If Anne wanted them to get married, she might be disenchanted by Cathy’s hesitation. Not that Cathy wanted to hesitate. She had committed herself to Anne a long time ago and thought she was more than content to spend the rest of her days continuing to do so without a ring, a piece of paper, or a church justifying her actions.

Anne had watched the conflict rage across Parr’s face as the blue queen struggled to assess her own feelings. Cathy was so predictable sometimes. Boleyn knew it was a rather unanticipated subject for Cathy, however, she had started contemplating it several months prior. Anne had waited years for The Great Matter to be settled, had given up her chance at happiness with Henry Percy before that, and had suffered every consequence imaginable afterwards. Now she loved someone so whole-heartedly, so beyond comparison to the ways her heart had rapidly stuttered with affection in her previous life, that she couldn’t think to dampen her excitement for the next step. If that was what Cathy wanted.

She attempted to assuage some of Cathy’s fears, “Hey, I’m serious. I’m not saying we do it just to prove it to Lizzie and I agree today has been a lot, but if you want to,  **and only if you want to** , I plan to marry you one day Cathy Parr.” She tentatively reached out an arm, waiting for Cathy to decide if she wanted to be touched. 

As her girlfriend leaned into the comfort, Anne reassured, “I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to be ready to feel the same, but you’re it for me. This time you’d only say ‘I do’ once and I want you to be completely ready for everything that entails when you do. Our girls are going to be Lizzie and Mae Parr-Boleyn. Or Boleyn-Parr. We can work out those specifics later, but my point is I have  **two** beautiful girls to love and parent with you.”

Anne punctuated her last statement with a kiss to Cathy’s forehead. When they stood like this Cath could slot herself right under Anne’s chin. It was perfect. It was clear, however, that Cathy was not fully soothed. Anne pushed a little more.

“It’s not me and Lizzie and you and Mae and also you and me. It’s them, you, and me.  **Full stop** . Everything else is secondary as far as I’m concerned,” she promised. Her eyes were pleading for Cathy to understand how deeply in her bones this was felt. She knew it intrinsically, as if it had always been part of her. 

It must have clicked for Cathy because she reverted to French,  _ “Je t’aime mon chou.” _

_ “Je t’aime toujours.” _

And then they were kissing, forgetting everything around them, including the girls. Cathy was running her hands through Anne’s hair as Anne pressed her up against the door. She let slip a moan, setting off a fire in Anne’s brain. Her tongue eagerly chased the sound, praying to hear it again and again. Anne’s fingers were just skimming the waistband of Parr’s pajamas when they were so rudely interrupted.

With a fearsome wail Mae pierced the near-silence startling both of her mothers. They took a beat to gain their bearings, then huddled around her basket and looked down at her squirming in her blanket. 

“What’s the matter Mae? Mummy and I are right here,” cooed Anne affectionately. She bent down and scooped the baby up, attempting to soothe her fussing.

“She might be hungry. We haven’t fed her since she got here,” Parr suggested hesitantly. It seemed like a logical option. She doubted the baby had noticed what they were up to before she started crying.

“Been meaning to ask. You haven’t noticed any  _ differences _ have you?” Anne’s eyes flitted to Cathy’s chest while she asked the question. 

Cathy indulgently teased, “I don’t think it works like that love.”

Anne retorted playfully, “A girl can dream.” 

Mae raised the volume, quite incensed that no one seemed to be taking her frustrations seriously. 

“It’s okay. We’re going to fix you a bottle right now baby,” Cathy crooned. Anne handed her the infant and watched them bounce up and down.

“What Mummy said Mae-by baby,” Anne promised the newborn as she crossed towards the door and opened it so Cathy wouldn’t have to shift Mae. 

“I like that. Mae-by.”

They had moved through the threshold of the doorway when from the bed there was a muted inquiry.

“Mama?” called Lizzie. Her hair was all tousled and she rubbed her bleary little eyes. 

Anne good-naturedly rolled her eyes in Cathy’s direction and remarked, “Uh-oh, here we go. We’ll catch up with you later.” 

Cathy nodded and disappeared from view as Anne crawled on the bed and pulled Lizzie into her lap. She brushed the matted hairs and pressed light kisses to Lizzie’s cheeks.

“Mama’s here princess. Shh, I’m still here. Did the baby wake you up? Hmm?”

Lizzie grudgingly responded, “Uh huh.”

“Mama’s poor baby,” hummed Anne. She’d started rocking Elizabeth against her chest.

“Not baby. Big girl,” Elizabeth declared. She was practically three. That was very mature. 

Anne smirked, but acquiesced, “Okay, you’re Mama’s big girl.” She cuddled Lizzie closer, just breathing in her scent and thanking whatever deity, twist in fate, or collapse in physics that had brought her daughter back. 

Elizabeth stirred as she grew more accustomed to being awake once again. She popped her head out from its place against Anne’s chest and surveyed the room. She didn’t recognize it at all. 

“Where are we Mama?” probed Lizzie. 

“We are in London  _ mon coeur _ . In our new home,” Anne answered vaguely. She rubbed Elizabeth’s back encouragingly. Her toddler was just as inquisitive and astute as she remembered.

“Our home?” Elizabeth sounded so eager, so hopeful, for Anne to confirm that they would be staying in this new (for Lizzie) place together, instead of Elizabeth staying somewhere and Anne visiting as frequently as she could reasonably tear herself away from her responsibilities at court.

“Yes princess. This is our home,” Anne confirmed adoringly. Most of their family lived here and the rest were nearby. For a moment Anne entertained thoughts of the future, of raising Lizzie and Mae in the Palace, with Cathy at her side for all of it. She pictured Cathy teaching Mae how to walk in the front hall and reading French fairy tales with Lizzie before bed or even scolding Lizzie and Mae for coordinating a prank on their Aunt Anna with the help of their Aunt Kitty. “I know being in a new place unexpectedly can be rather overwhelming, but you don’t have to be scared. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Ever. She wanted to end that sentence with ever, but knew it was impossible to protect her children from all worldly harms. As much as she and Cathy would try to prevent pain, Lizzie and Mae would still scrape their knees, suffer through stomach aches, and potentially get their hearts broken one day. There was equally something beautiful about those prospective torments because it meant they were alive. How fickle and sensational and tragic it was to be human.

Lizzie pulled Anne from her thoughts. She accused her mother, “You were gone a long time.”

Fear trickled down Anne’s spine and she wondered how long Elizabeth actually meant. Time worked differently for children. Mary admitted to being nineteen and both Eddie and Mae were still newborns. Cathy would be hypothesizing by now that the children had returned at the ages they were when their mother’s left the living world for the first time.

“I’m so sorry Elizabeth. I didn’t mean to, but I missed you so much. Every single day,” Anne swore as she held her daughter close. “Never again though. I’ll be with you forever this time.”

Anne would fight God, Satan, even the damn  _ Moon _ , with her bare hands in order to fulfill that oath. 

“Where did the baby go?”

How was it that her probably not-yet-three year old was jumping through topics quicker than she could comfortably keep up with?

“She’s hungry big girl. Are you hungry too?” Anne asked as she scooted them both towards the side of the bed and prepared to hoist herself to her feet. 

“Yes!” was the toddler’s emphatic declaration.

Anne pulled herself up and perched Elizabeth on her right hip. Cathy usually rebuked her if she left the bed unmade, but today felt like the best day to conveniently forget to do so and not face the consequences. Who could remember to straighten the sheets at a time like this?

“Alright then. Let’s get something in your belly. There might be a lot of people downstairs, but they all care about you. If it gets too loud, we can go someplace quiet. Are you ready?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I'm fascinated by is the thought of the queens and ladies resurrecting and meeting their descendants (the few of them that can at least). From what I understand Maria's line extends down through the late Princess of Wales, making her the great x whatever grandmother of William and Harry.
> 
> What might be even funnier than imagining them meeting the current royals is Cathy meeting this gentleman, who is apparently the heir to the Latimer (Latymer) Barony, which was held by her second husband and then her step-son, John.
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drummond_Money-Coutts


	7. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone ready for a little bit of angst?

“Ready Mama!” Lizzie answered. She sent Anne a dazzling smile. This kid had her whole damn heart. Anne was looking forward to all the extra days of smiles ahead of them. 

Boleyn let her daughter play with her hair as they made their way downstairs. Observing the empty room they’d all been in less than an hour before, Anne wondered where everyone had gotten off to. She could hear assorted noises coming from the kitchen, including both infants fussing. Maybe it would be better to extend to those tending to Eddie and Mae a couple more minutes to get the bottles sorted before Anne and Lizzie added to the chaos.

Luckily Anna walked up to them and asked, “Alright now Bo?”

“I’d say so. What do you think Lizzie? Did you have a good nap?” Anne reached to tickle under her daughter’s chin as she posed the question. She smirked as Elizabeth bunched up and pulled back, giggling, to avoid more teasing. 

“Good nap! Now we play!” Lizzie declared. She wiggled in Anne’s arms, suggesting she wanted to be put down. 

Anne held tightly. She quizzed the toddler, “I thought you wanted a snack big girl?”

Lizzie considered this, then replied, “Both Mama!”

“Maybe I could watch Liz and we could play something while you get her a snack? Might be easier than taming her while in the kitchen. It’s a bit cramped right now,” Anna offered graciously.

Anne remembered Anna had once told her how much she’d loved Lizzie, describing her as the best part about being married to Henry. Anne could relate to that. It’d been relieving when she’d returned to life to hear that the queens who’d been unfortunate enough to follow her had also loved her daughter, had doted on her as if she was their own, and expressed pain at not getting to see her again. It was like confirming Elizabeth was every bit remarkable as Anne believed her to be in the almost three years she’d had with her. Briefly, it crossed Anne’s mind to ponder if Anna and Kitty would mourn their assumed monikers of step-mother. It was just another emotional layer to consider during this period of adjustment. She made a mental note to bring this up with Cathy later.

“How does that sound imp? Would you like to play with Aunt Anna while I whip you up something tasty?” encouraged Anne. She hoped Lizzie would accept Anna’s friendly outreach, but she’d leave the final decision in her daughter’s hands. So many choices had been taken away from Elizabeth in her first life and Anne would be remiss to allow the trend to continue into the present. 

Elizabeth leveraged a scrutinizing eye in Anna’s direction, one that Anne believed lesser men would squirm under. It was a good thing Anna ate lesser men for her pre-workout breakfast. The German queen held the toddler’s stare with an easy-going grin plastered to her face.

Seeing whatever it was she needed to see, Lizzie assented with a short nod. She released the grip she had on her mother and extended her arms towards Cleves, who swept the princess up with a whirl and an exaggerated aeroplane impersonation. 

With a laugh Lizzie wondered, “Do you have any dolls Aunt Anna?”

Anne heard Anna’s conspiratorial answer as the fourth queen climbed up the stairs, “Well I don’t, but Aunt Kitty has plenty. Let’s go see if she’ll share some with you.”

Anne fondly shook her head. She and Cathy would have to keep an observant eye on Anna, and probably Kitty too, so they didn’t rope Lizzie into too much trouble. Although, a part of her believed the opportunity for their daughter to have a blissful, hijinks-filled childhood would be best for all of them. They would have to find a happy medium.

With one of her children accounted for, Anne entered the kitchen. Poor Jane was attempting to calm Eddie down and Anne would wager that attempt was the optimal word there because the boy’s face was fully red from exertion. Cathy was tittering back and forth before the dismayed pair, the stovetop, and Mae, who was getting increasingly agitated in Maggie’s arms. 

Over the din she heard Cathy’s frantic, “Annie will you take her?”

Anne quickly crossed to Maggie and opened her arms. She murmured to her best friend, “I’ll take her Mags thanks.” 

Maggie eagerly handed Mae over, who stopped her crying for a moment before picking back up and getting louder. Anne was only fractionally insulted at the slight. Maggie glanced to the doorway, then back to Anne, as if hoping for absolution if she took the chance to run. 

“Go. We’ll handle this.”

Maggie was off like a bolt, no doubt hoping to find Joan or Kitty somewhere, preferably far away from her present location. Anne couldn’t blame her. If you ignored the heartbreak of hearing a newborn wail their lungs out, you were still left with the irritation.

Anne shushed the baby, “Easy does it baby girl. Mummy’s almost done with your bottle and then we’ll feed you. Shh, we know Mae-by. We know.” She cradled Mae in the crook of her arm and wiped a finger across the damp cheeks. Even with the soothing words Mae howled as if she was in dire pain. Eddie wasn’t any better.

“They’re done!” exclaimed Cathy. 

Jane pleaded with her son, “Did you hear that Eddie? Please stop crying. I’m going to feed you in just a second.”

If Edward heard his mother he did not care. He shook his fists and let out another piercing shriek. Anne thought Jane might cry in sympathy.

Cathy passed Jane a bottle and instructed, “Test it on your wrist before putting it in his mouth.” 

She kept moving, pulling Anne and Mae over towards the dining chairs. Anne sat immediately, expecting Cathy to follow and ask for the baby. Instead Parr pulled off her pajama shirt, then unsnapped the buttons on Mae’s outfit so her tiny chest was exposed. 

Dumbfounded, Anne transitioned Mae into Cathy’s arms and watched their newborn still as the tip of the bottle was brought to her lips. Immediately she was sucking down the formula. Across the table Eddie was similarly occupied and the room fell into a blessed silence. All three adults let out a collective sigh of relief. 

Anne peered over Cathy’s shoulder. Mae was sitting high up on her chest, little face and stomach pressing against her mother’s sternum as she gulped down her meal. Her eyelids fluttered heavily, as if she hadn’t been screaming for her bloody life only moments earlier. 

“Not that I’m complaining baby, but why no shirt?” Anne mumbled into Parr’s ear. She ghosted a thumb over Cathy’s bare shoulder before kissing it and settling her chin on the sturdy surface.

Cathy whispered back, “I read it’s better for babies to get skin-to-skin contact when they’re this little.”

She pulled off the baby cap and brushed some of the newly-revealed dark hairs. She hoped what Anne had said in bed that morning would come true, that Mae would one day inherit Cathy’s curls. They were one of her favorite features of her new body. 

Boleyn nuzzled against Cathy and promised, “Like I said, no complaints from me.”

Cathy’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and Anne could feel herself start to choke up. She wasn’t sure if there was anything quite like providing for your child. Even with Jane and Eddie less than a meter away it felt like the three of them were in their own bubbled off world. 

Anne lazily stroked up Cathy’s left side and teased, “You’ve never looked fitter than right now, feeding our baby still sporting the bites I left two nights ago. Damn Cathy the things I want you to do to me.” She lowered her voice significantly in the last sentence and brushed her lips up to that area behind Cathy’s ear that usually had Parr moaning. She could tell Cathy bit one back from the way she pressed into Anne. 

Turning her head into Anne’s neck Cathy warned, “Not in front of little eyes and ears.” She’d gotten over feeling chagrined in front of the other queens when Anne hinted towards their sex life or proudly displayed its aftereffects, but perhaps they could leave dirty talk for a time when they were alone. At the minimum, Cathy would prefer for the baby to be somewhere other than her arms. 

“Alright. Later then.”

They looked back to Mae who was completely unconcerned by their behavior. 

“Will you grab me a tea towel love?” Cathy asked Anne. Mae would need to be burped soon, if Cathy was judging the expediency she’d exercised in eating correctly. 

Anne was itching to help and eagerly grabbed one for her girlfriend, as well as one for Jane, who’d wisely ignored everything said by the other adults. The third queen had settled peacefully across the table from them and had needed no coaxing in getting Eddie to take his bottle. The young prince was guzzling down his milk with reckless abandon. He had certainly inherited his father’s appetite.

While handing over one of the towels Anne joked, “Well he seems to be getting the hang of it.” 

Jane kept her eyes trained on her son when she responded, “He’s mesmerizing.” She adoringly stroked one of his balled up fists. 

Parr and Boleyn had to agree. There was so much innocence in the brown orbs looking up at them. This was  **their** baby. 

Anne allowed herself to get lost in the moment. Unfortunately that meant forgetting why she’d originally gone into the kitchen in the first place. She was shaken from the daydream when Lizzie came charging in with Cleves hot on her heels.

“Mama!” the toddler demanded.

The shout startled Anne out of her reverie, but thankfully Eddie and Mae were still adequately distracted by their lunches to put up another fuss. The second queen unwrapped herself from around her partner and padded towards Lizzie. 

“What’s the matter big girl? Weren’t you having fun with Aunt Anna?”

Anne stooped down to Lizzie’s height and looked for any additional injuries. Her daughter hadn’t been clumsy before, but she also hadn’t been allowed as much physical freedom. Maybe she was just adjusting to the new body and new rules.

“I want my snack Mama,” Lizzie reminded her mother. As an afterthought she added, “Please.”

Anne exclaimed, “Goodness you’re right princess. Mama got a little sidetracked. I’ll get right on it.” 

Cleves smirked down at Elizabeth, “I’ll see you later Liz, yeah?”

“Bye Aunt Anna!”

Anna left with a small, pink dog in her right hand. Anne would have to ask her daughter about their playtime while Lizzie ate.

Anne opened the fridge and grabbed some grapes Catalina had picked up at the store the previous day. She poured a generous helping onto a plate from the cupboard and cut each into quarters with a knife from the drawer. When they were in small enough pieces Anne was comfortable giving them to Lizzie. 

“There we go. Want to stay on my lap while you eat princess?”

“Yes please,” grinned Lizzie. 

Anne once again sat next to Cathy at the table and pulled Lizzie into her lap. She forewarned the toddler, “Remember to chew slowly.”

Lizzie reached down and grasped a chunk of grape with chubby fingers. She maneuvered it into her mouth and chewed as instructed. She looked up when she heard Edward let out an abrupt burp. 

Cathy mused, “We seem to be consistently learning today that small people can make some immensely loud noises.”

She shifted Mae over her shoulder and clapped the newborn’s back, hoping to get a similar result. 

“Yes it seems so. I do hope some poor manners are the only things Eddie’s inherited from Henry,” sighed Jane morosely. From what she’d read on the historical Edward and had been able to wheedle out of Anna and Cathy, her son had revered his father.

Hearing her father’s name, Elizabeth perked up. She had yet to see him, but if she and Mama were living here, surely he would visit soon. She would ask Mama. Mama knew everything.

“Is Papa here?”

With those three words all of the air was sucked out of the room. Anne cringed and felt Cathy wince at her side. Jane had paled-which was saying something. Only the newborns were unaffected by the question.

Cathy knew eventually they would have to address Henry’s absence, but she’d hoped that she and Anne might have a little more time to think about what they were going to say. It had taken all of them months to begin to really grapple with reincarnation, the nuances of missing people who’d been dead for centuries, and all the intricacies of the modern world, but they’d been fully functioning adults when they did so. Lizzie was a child, a child who believed she had a doting and loving father, a father she would have seen only weeks or months prior. 

Cathy dimly remembered when her own father died. Her younger sister had only been a little older than Elizabeth at the time. Thomas Parr was no king, but he’d loved Cathy, Will, and Anne without question and they all felt the agony one gets in the pit of their chest when a loved one leaves forever. Even now, twice grown, as a partner, mother, sister, aunt, and friend, Cathy was struck with the longing to feel the comfort of her father’s arms, the thrill of hearing his voice, or just the opportunity to say she loved him once last time. She wished she could show both Lizzie and Mae to her parents. She’d even take watching her mother reunite with Catalina, Maria, and Bessie. 

While Cathy let herself wallow in this unexpected pivot towards grief, Anne had steeled herself to answer her daughter. It was like she told Cathy earlier: they would tell Lizzie the truth.

Exhaling deeply, Anne tentatively began, “No,  _ mon coeur _ , Papa isn’t here.” 

That subdued Elizabeth marginally, but Papa was a very busy man. He had sponsabilities. That’s what he was always telling her when she wanted to know why he didn’t visit her enough. And Papa  **never** lied. 

“Soon though Mama?”

Lizzie’s eyes were as round as tea saucers and it broke Anne’s heart. As much as she’d grown to resent Henry and his long, long list of deplorable actions, a part of her would put that aside for her daughter’s benefit. If he was just a regular, shitty ex-husband Anne knew she’d swallow her pride if that was what was best for Elizabeth. 

But he wasn’t, so she couldn’t.

With an internal groan, Anne arduously continued, “No big girl. Papa isn’t coming here soon.” From the corner of her eye she watched Jane apologetically back out of the room.  _ Traitor _ . “My love, your father is gone. He’s never coming back.” She subtly crossed her fingers for good luck.

“Gone?” pouted Lizzie feebly. She looked and sounded so small. Anne pulled her up so they were chest to chest.

Boleyn explained, “Do you remember your prayers? How one day we will all go to sleep so God will raise us to Heaven?”

The little head bobbed up and in down in acknowledgment.

“Papa has gone to sleep. He’s in Heaven now, with God and Jesus,” Anne lied. It tasted like ash on her tongue. She didn’t presume to know much about God’s will anymore, but she’d bet just about anything that Henry was not sitting all chummy with the Holy Father. And if he was, then she didn’t want to be invited to that kind of party. 

Cathy placed what she hoped was a comforting hand on Anne’s shoulder. She felt at a loss here. She didn’t want Lizzie to be in any pain, but they couldn’t get her hopes up either. As devastating as it was, letting her know Henry was dead was the most merciful thing to do.

Lizzie was hiccuping, tears accumulated at the corners of her eyes, “No more Papa?”

“No more Papa big girl.”

With the confirmation Elizabeth unleashed an unholy lamentation. She sobbed into Anne’s shoulder helplessly. Anne looked to Cathy mournfully. It hurt both of them to see Lizzie suffer like this. 

Rising from her chair slowly, Anne paced back and forth across the kitchen. She kept a tight grip on the flailing body in her arms and reassured, “I know it hurts princess. It’s okay to cry.”

“PAPA!” was the anguished answer. 

Anne’s resolve was crumbling. Lizzie’s prolonged cries were agitating Mae, the baby now stirring in the sixth queen’s arms. Could they really handle this? An hour ago she’d been so sure, but now reality was challenging her hubris.

Cathy leaned in towards them, but the closer she got, the louder Mae became. Realizing this, Cathy pulled away and harrowingly stared back at Anne. How would the two of them fix this? 

Knowing the noise would only augment as the pair riled each other up, Anne knew she needed to separate Lizzie and Mae. She turned to Cathy and shouted, “I’m taking her to my room. She needs to cool down.”

She hiked Lizzie up higher in her arms to make sure her grip was firm. Dropping the kid on the steps would undoubtedly make this moment even worse.

“Okay princess. We’re going upstairs to sit somewhere quiet. Mama’s here,” Anne promised into the void. There was no way Lizzie could hear her through the child’s excruciating distress. 

With a last look to Cathy, Anne mouthed, “I’m sorry,” and headed for the staircase. She resolutely marched up the steps, but was stopped by Maggie on the landing.

“What happened?” she shouted. She’d never seen Lizzie this upset before.

Anne grimaced, “I told her about H-e-n-r-y and how he’s d-e-a-d.” She made sure to spell out the words she knew would trigger Elizabeth’s tears even more.

“Oh Nan.”

“It’s fine Mags. Cathy and I knew this was a possibility. She’s just overwhelmed. She’s had an eventful day. We’re gonna go someplace quiet and get some space and just cry for a bit. Then we’ll feel much better,” Anne assured Maggie as much as she assured herself. 

Lizzie was upset now, but once she got a couple of good cries out of her system and accepted Henry’s forever sabbatical from her life, she would live a much better life. One day she would understand that. It was the only future Anne could permit herself to aspire towards now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do feel bad about making Jane the plot's scapegoat again. I tend to see Jane's quickness to anger in the show as rooted in a place of insecurity. The world knows her as the mother of Henry's son and the one wife he actually liked, but I think a reincarnated Jane would have to grapple a lot with these notions. Did she love Henry back or did she do what was asked of her, just like Anne? As much as she might want to embrace the maternal role that's been ascribed to her, she's not so sure how to go about it without making mistakes and a true queen should be perfect. This story is primarily about Parrlyn's highs and lows in the immediate aftermath of the children returning, but I do hope I'm conveying in small ways how all of the adults are challenged by this change, as well as how the three older children must adjust to this new normal.


	8. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned! Apologies for the long delay. I had some family matters that required attending to, but I am back with another installment and I believe it is the longest chapter yet.

When Anne finally made it to her bedroom, the bedroom she’d agreed to give up less than an hour before, she curled up with Lizzie on her mattress. Her baby continued to cry in agony for her long dead father and selfishly-so selfishly that the shame flared from her core to color her cheeks a vibrant scarlet-Anne wondered if Elizabeth had reacted like this when she’d been told of Anne’s death. 

She hated herself in the moment. How could she be jealous of her daughter’s pain? If she’d doubted her abilities before, now she was convinced this was irrefutable evidence of the personal flaws in her character preventing her from being the mother Lizzie had needed in the past and would now need in this life. Henry had been right in that regard; Anne was only a hindrance to her daughter’s future.

Anne felt the tears collecting, but did nothing to stop them. She cried into Lizzie’s dark curls, resigning herself to once again not being good enough for the person she loved most. Bitterly she realized it was even worse now because she had let down Cathy and Mae too. Mae who Anne had known for a scant few hours. Mae who Cathy would argue she’d abandoned, no matter how unintentionally. Mae who had stolen Anne’s heart much like her Mummy. 

**_No._ **

It whispered in the back of Anne’s mind. Suspiciously sounding like Cathy, the voice reminded Anne of all the harm their ex-husband had wrought their daughter. It pointed out the wishes, prayers, and dreams Boleyn had sent into the world for three years, desperately pleading with any deity, spirit, or force at work to hear her and answer her calls. If someone was responsible for this, they had given Anne exactly what she claimed she’d wanted for so long. To give up now when it had only just begun didn’t sound like Anne Boleyn at all. 

Queens were made of stronger stuff.

Anne wiped the water from her eyes and carded her hands gently through her daughter’s near-identical hair. She breathed assurances to Elizabeth as the toddler hiccuped through her sobs. Over and over and over again Anne promised to never leave, never desert, never forsake this child (or the one waiting in the kitchen).

Eventually, Lizzie ran out of steam and her weeping petered out. To Anne it looked like Lizzie had aged before her very eyes. There was a weariness to the girl that hadn’t been there earlier in the day. It broke Anne’s heart.

Elizabeth sniffled into her mother’s shoulder, too tired to rub her face or move it from the damp patch she’d created. Anne rubbed her back comfortingly. 

“I know you’re sad big girl and you have every right to be. He was your Papa and you loved him very much,” murmured Anne. “I can’t promise this pain will just go away tomorrow. When you lose someone it can hurt for a very long time, which is how you know they were important to you.”

“Will you go away too?” Elizabeth asked like she was afraid of Anne’s response.

“Never ever my love. I promise.”

It was decided. No matter what she needed to do, Anne was going to be with her girls forever.

She was roused from her thoughts by another question.

“Does Mary know about Papa?”

She didn’t know the answer to that. She hadn’t seen Catalina or Mary since the snafu with Fitzroy. If she had to speculate, Catalina would have done like Anne, Cathy, and Jane. She and Mary might still be talking, actually. There was undoubtedly a lot for Mary to get caught up on. Where once Anne would have experienced a burst of contempt at the older princess’s mention, now she was met with pride and relief. To know that Elizabeth could be compassionate enough to think of her sister in such an emotionally trying time and to remember that Catalina was also walking this tightrope in navigating a child’s grief for a man you could not yourself truly mourn were twin salves on Anne’s soul.

She resolved to get some advice from the oldest of their group.

Anne questioned Elizabeth, “Would you like to find Mary and see if she knows? We don’t have to if you don’t want to princess.” Always a choice. 

“Yes please Mama.”

The smallest smile tempted Anne, “Okay big girl. Then that’s what we’ll do. Can Mama carry you?”

The head on her shoulder nodded slightly, clearly still worn out from its exertions, so the second queen scooped her baby into her arms and descended the flight of stairs. When they settled on the first floor landing Boleyn directed them towards the bedroom at the end of the hallway and knocked. 

To her momentary surprise it was Bessie who opened the door. As Anne crossed the threshold into the room she found Catalina, Mary, Maria, and Fitzroy spread across the furniture and all staring back at her. 

“Oh, hello everyone,” said Anne. She hadn’t expected Catalina to have company. Perhaps Bessie had made her son apologize to his sister. It seemed unlikely he would have voluntarily done so based on what had happened earlier. She’d have to ask later.

She stuttered, “Er, well I’ve given Elizabeth some rather unsettling news and she wanted to know if you’d also been made aware, Your Highness.” Or should she have said Your Majesty now that the cat was out of the bag? All of this was starting to make Anne’s head hurt again. 

“I’ve been made aware of many troubling matters since arriving this morning. Could you please be more specific Anne?” Mary questioned evenly. 

Anne sighed. She didn’t want to say it aloud and risk upsetting Elizabeth again, but how else could she convey the topic? After all, Mary was right. Catalina had probably walked her daughter through her highlight reel of emotional traumas from 1536 onwards.

Then Anne remembered Elizabeth was still a toddler. As intelligent as she was-and no one could deny the child’s prodigious nature-she was not yet three. Although Anne had spoken French around her, Elizabeth wouldn’t have started her formal instruction in the language yet. Mary, however, would be comfortably fluent in French at her current age. 

Anne replied, “ _ La morte du roi _ .”

“I see,” murmured Mary. She took a breath and gestured for Elizabeth, “May I?”

“Big girl would you like to go to your sister?” Anne directed to Lizzie. 

The child looked between Mary and her mother before wordlessly extending towards the outstretched arms. Once Lizzie was secured in her grasp, Mary returned to the bed and propped herself up on the headboard. She combed some errant locks out of Elizabeth's eyes and whispered to her sister so quietly Anne couldn't hear what was being said from across the room.

“Perhaps we should allow you some quiet moments alone, my love?” suggested Catalina. She knew Mary might hide her grief for Henry if it was to be displayed in front of some of those most aggrieved by his actions. There would be less shame expressing those feelings in front of her sister, though. Elizabeth wouldn’t judge.

“Please.”

Maria and Bessie were quick to nod and leave. Anne lingered for a moment, but resolved to remain close in case Elizabeth needed her again. Only Fitzroy was dragging his feet now, like he wanted someone to tell him it was okay to stay.

“Your Grace?” called Mary. 

The Duke of Richmond and Somerset snapped his head up.

“He was your father too. We would be honored if you stayed.”

Catalina disguised a grin at her daughter’s maturity in addressing Bessie’s son as if he were a social superior. From the short conversation they’d all had before Anne and Lizzie interrupted them, the Spanish queen had been able to paint a picture of her friend’s boy. It was clear the younger Henry had lived with shame all his first life, had struggled with loneliness, and fought against an inferiority complex that surprisingly outranked his father’s. Aragon had been able to put herself in Bessie’s shoes over the years, but this was the first time she thought of what it must have been like to be the living proof of the king’s “virility.” Even though Henry had acknowledged this son, Fitzroy hadn't been an acceptable heir to many in England and was therefore just as disappointing as his half-sisters in Henry’s mind. And if you were a disappointment, you were useless until proven otherwise.

The adults congregated outside the closed bedroom door. 

“Well that went better than expected!” Maria cheerfully observed. She’d volunteered to mediate the previous interaction and she hadn’t been confident it would fare well after witnessing the debacle downstairs that had necessitated the apologies. 

Bessie concurred, “Yeah after the shit Hal said earlier I thought we were both getting banned from family dinners.”

Catalina scoffed, “I’d never allow that Elizabeth. Although, we should celebrate today. I think I’ll put together a menu while the three of them are occupied.”

With that the first queen was off, never one to lollygag when there was work to be done. Maria was hot on her heels. They left Bessie and Anne in the hallway. 

Anne supposed she’d have to ask for that advice some other time. Or did she? Bessie would surely be struggling with balancing her child’s sorrow and right to mourn with her own much less sympathetic feelings towards Henry too.

“Are you staying?” Bessie glanced over to Anne. 

“I am. Would you like to keep me company?” smiled Anne. She’d try to broach the topic slowly, without ambushing Bessie emotionally.

They sat across from one another on the carpet in silence. There had been a time when each had feared the other’s opinion. Did Bessie think Anne was guilty of the crimes she’d been accused of? Did Anne think Bessie had wanted everything the king had done to her? 

Now there was an unspoken, but profound mutual respect. They might not be as close as Anne and Maggie or Bessie and Anna, but they were no less family at this point. 

Anne broke the silence, “So Hal huh?” She’d noticed Bessie had foregone her son’s given name in favor of a nickname. 

“I can’t call him his Christian name and everything else feels too formal now. After everything I’m still his mother,” admitted the bassist faintly. She hated feeling this way, but she couldn’t call him Henry. Hal was easier.

Anne calmly reached out a hand and let Bessie watch it hover over her knee. When Bessie gave the nod, Anne lowered it and offered a gentle squeeze. She consoled, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. If he allows it, I think I’d rather like to call him Fitz.”

“I think if anyone is going to get away with that, it will be Anna.”

“Cleves always has all the fun,” Anne pouted. 

They both laughed, then trailed off into a familiar stillness. 

Anne was continually impressed by Bessie’s dignified and tranquil strength. She didn’t like drawing attention to herself, whether it be in regards to her past or present, but was quick to support those around her. She could listen to anyone for hours and always gave great advice. As a member of the “Old Biddies” (Kitty’s decreed nickname for the formidable thirty-something trio of Bessie, Catalina, and Maria) Bessie was a preferred source of maternal comfort and an ideal partner for heavy drinking. Sometimes both if the proper mood struck.

“I’m glad she’s here Anne,” whispered Bessie. “Even if it means joining the shared name club.”

Anne let out an unladylike chortle. With their new arrivals only Maggie and Hal could really claim to be unique. Everyone else shared names or were similar enough to cause significant confusion. It was a good thing they’d become so fond of their alternate monikers.

“I’m glad Hal’s here too,” acknowledged Anne. “He’ll keep us on our toes.”

Bessie groaned at Anne’s jest before conceding, “He’s more stubborn than I remember. He must get that from his father.” Her eye roll suggested she knew Hal had just as likely inherited his stubborn streak from her.

“I also plan on blaming him for any of Lizzie’s more problematic traits. I’d say we’re owed at least that much,” Anne joked back. “Did you make him apologize to Mary?” She hoped that wasn’t too abrupt of a transition. 

“I did. Luckily his sense of chivalry seems to still be intact. He agrees how he said everything was wrong, but still maintains Mary could have eased her suffering if she only did as the king asked,” Bessie explained to Anne. 

“I have learned that even when behaving as he wanted you to, it was never enough. He was not well-pleased for long,” mumbled Anne mournfully. They had all learned that lesson at some point with Henry.

Bessie fixed Anne with a sympathetic grimace. She knew exactly what Anne meant. She leaned back against the wall and propped her head up on the knee supporting her elbow, the other leg extended lazily towards Anne. She regarded her companion for a moment and listened for any sounds behind the door keeping their children. There were a few, but they were so muffled Bessie couldn’t be certain who was talking nor their topic of conversation. For all she knew, they had moved on from their father, although she didn’t think they had.

She sighed again and commented, “I agree, although I felt it pertinent to remind him of the privileges he was afforded by being the king’s son, even one born out of wedlock. Had the roles been reversed, I doubt Mary or Elizabeth would have been recognized at all. They assuredly wouldn’t have received the education or income Hal had growing up.”

It was something she had wondered about often in those days. If Hal had been a girl, would she still have been married off to her first husband or would Henry have found someone of lesser status? She bet that damned saying would have never come to be, especially if Henry Cornwall had remained healthy and lived into childhood. 

“Henry’s love always came with a price. I’m sure Hal knows that as well as any of us,” mused Anne. Elizabeth had been labelled a bastard at her father's behest after Anne’s execution, but the child hadn’t been as lucky as Fitzroy. Her household’s funds had dried up immediately, prompting Mary to make provisions for her half-sister. 

Anne glanced over to Bessie. She had a glassy stare, as if she wasn’t really present. Anne knew that look.

“What are you worried about, Bess?”

Bessie shook her head, clearing it of the torrent of thoughts whirling through. How could she explain?

With a defeated exhale, Bessie began, “I can’t fail him again. I know there wasn’t much I could do last time, that he would always be taken away from me in some way, if not by the king, then by the expectations of the age.” 

It was true. Aristocratic children were often sent to their richest relative’s manor in order to receive an education before lobbying for a position at court. Anne herself had spent most of her formative years in France in Queen Claude’s retinue. It was unusual to spend copious amounts of time with your children once they left your household.

She continued, “But now, if he grows into manhood and takes after his father, if he is cruel and unyielding and selfish, it will distinctly be my fault. I cannot allow that to happen Anne.” She finished with an edge to her voice. 

It appeared they had another fear in common. While Anne was lucky to have a much longer history to reference for Elizabeth, she’d be remiss to allow the child to turn out the same this time. As a parent, it was her responsibility to protect Lizzie from growing up as fast as she had,which was most likely in response to the myriad traumas she’d endured before adulthood.

Likewise, Bessie was obligated to protect her son from repeating past sins. Hal had once seen his father as someone worth emulating. If he continued in that vein, if he regarded obsessive and violent behaviors as those expected of a man, then Bessie would fail her son. Maybe even worse, she’d be responsible for someone who could be a threat to others. But that was the fear talking.

Anne encouraged, “I think if you’re that set on it, then there’s not a chance in the world he’ll be anything like Henry this time. He’ll be like you.” She hoped Fitz would know what an honor it was to have Bessie as a mother, to come from someone so incredibly strong and determined. She was worth two hundred Henry’s in Anne’s opinion. “And you’re not alone. Catalina, Jane, Cathy, and I are in the same storm. We’re all just making it up as we go along in our own boats. There’s no parenting book for this kind of situation, but at least we’re in this together.”

While she’d hoped to get some advice from Bessie it was reassuring to see the lady-in-waiting also had very little idea of what to do right now. There was a comfort in knowing those around you were just as lost. It made the journey more fun. 

“I suppose that does offer an ounce of solace. Thank you Anne.”

“Anytime Bess.”

Catalina’s door opened, pulling them out of their conversation. Mary emerged first with Elizabeth once again in her arms. Fitzroy was behind the duo, wiping at his suspiciously red eyes. Anne and Bessie pulled themselves off the floor.

“Elizabeth has made it known that she is rather famished,” said Mary.

Anne winced. Lizzie hadn’t been able to finish her delayed snack before the temper-tantrum. 

“I go with Mary and Harry,” Lizzie told her mother. 

Anne quirked an eyebrow and queried, “Harry?” She turned to face Fitzroy. 

“From what I understand, it’s a fairly popular nickname these days, one good enough for the Duke of Sussex,” elaborated Fitzroy augustly. 

So perhaps Fitz was off the table. Harry was nice though. It didn’t conjure the primary source of Anne’s more unfortunate memories and she was confident the others would feel the same.

“Of course, Your Grace.” She directed her next response to Lizzie, “Well go on then big girl. I wouldn’t want you to starve. Have fun with your sister and brother.”

Anne watched Mary bring Elizabeth to the top of the stairs before setting her down and reaching for the child’s hand. They then cautiously made their way down a step at a time with Harry trailing behind them. 

Bessie remarked, “They seem to have come to some sort of an understanding.”

Her son didn’t have to accompany his sisters to the kitchen, but had chosen to do so nonetheless. It was too soon to know, but Bessie hoped this marked a turning point in Harry’s attitude. While he’d died a duke and married man, he was now a teenager of more humble means. If he could adapt to this new life, he would be better for it. Bessie knew that in her bones. 

From down the hall they heard the scrape of another door opening. It was Cathy’s. She stood in the entry sporting a contemplative look. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I think Cathy would like to speak with me,” Anne said. 

“Of course. I’ll see if Catalina and Maria would like some assistance.”

Bessie moved towards the stairs, nodding once to Cathy before making her way down to the ground floor. Anne followed behind Bessie. When she reached her partner, she gently pulled Cathy into a hug.

“Where’s the baby?” Anne asked.

Parr tilted her head back and answered, “Napping. Again. She dozed off on me after finishing her bottle.”

“Aww I bet she looked so cute while doing that too!”

Cathy smirked, “Yeah she did. Don’t worry though. I had Kitty take some pictures. Do you want to see?”

“Yes please!” responded Boleyn eagerly. 

She released Cathy, who led her by the hand to the bedside table. On top of one of Cathy’s many journals sat the sixth queen’s phone. Cathy unlocked it and gestured for Anne to swipe through the images Katherine had taken.

There were several of the scene from slightly different angles. Cathy was holding Mae against her chest, the baby’s eyes drooping with each successive swipe. By the final one the newborn was convincingly asleep, her meal long forgotten and Cathy beaming from above. 

Anne didn’t even mind the tears spilling down her cheeks. She sent herself the pictures, then returned the phone to Cathy. Cathy noticed the waterworks and brushed them aside tenderly. She spared a glance to Mae-cozily snuggled in her blanket and unconcerned with the world-then tugged Anne back to the window seat.

Now embarrassed, Anne rubbed aggressively at her eyes and apologized, “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize sweetheart. Tell me what you’re feeling when you’re ready please,” consoled Cathy. She stroked Anne’s lower arm slowly and allowed the second queen to collect herself.

Clearing her throat, Anne remarked, “She’s just so perfect Cathy. She’s here and she’s beautiful and she’s  _ ours _ .”

Cathy agreed, “They both are. It’s like a dream Annie.”

If it was, they had better not wake up.

“Could I...could I feed Mae her next bottle? I’ll take my top off and everything!” Anne rushed through the second sentence, but she hoped Cathy realized how genuine she was. She wanted to provide for Mae by any means necessary.

Parr chuckled, “Of course you can sweetheart.” She kissed Anne’s damp cheek and leaned against her shoulder. She continued, “I wanted to ask you about that actually. I looked it up and it’s possible to breastfeed without having been pregnant.” She nervously played with the front of Anne's shirt.

Anne furrowed her brow. She’d been joking earlier when she’d asked Cathy if her chest felt different. She asked, “How?”

Cathy launched into her explanation, “It sounds like a combination of medication and using a breast pump several times a day to mimic the sensation of a baby latching on. If I started it today, at the earliest it’d still take about a month for any results. I’d have to go on and then off birth control, which doesn’t change anything with us, but it’s possible.”

She’d been thinking about this while preparing Mae’s bottle and had done some light research already. From what she could understand, there were health benefits to breastfeeding, as well as economic incentives. Without knowing what Mae had died from, Cathy couldn’t be certain of the best way to protect their daughter now, but breastfeeding seemed like a solid base to jump from.

Anne observed, “That sounds like it’ll be a lot of work.” 

“It would, but the health benefits for Mae feel worth it. We need to give her her best shot and this feels like the way to do it,” agreed Cathy.

Well then that was all that mattered. 

Boleyn voiced her assent,”Okay. If you want to, I think you should, especially if it’s what’s best for Mae. I’d like to read up on this too, to understand what you’ll go through and how I can help support you, but you don’t need my permission. It’s your body baby.”

She nudged Cathy and the smaller queen adjusted so her head was now on Boleyn’s chest. She tentatively ran her fingers over Anne’s barely exposed collar bone.

“It’d take away your ability to feed her whenever though. That’s a lot of bonding time,” Parr admitted hesitantly. She didn’t want Anne to think she was attempting to horde time with the baby after what Anne had just expressed. 

Anne pressed a kiss to Cathy’s curls and suggested, “I guess I’ll just handle all the nappies then.”

“I’m serious.”

Cathy pulled herself up and faced Anne. Her jaw was firmly set, with tension emanating all over her body. 

Anne grazed her thumb over Cathy’s inner wrist. She comforted, “So am I. You said it yourself. We have to give Mae her best shot and it would be downright selfish of me not to support this because I’ll feel left out.”

She scooted closer to Cathy, waiting a moment for pushback, and when she didn’t receive any she wrapped an arm around Parr’s waist to pull the shorter queen into her lap. Once Cathy was settled, Boleyn continued, “I want what is best for her and if that means you’ll have to be topless more often, then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. I have the rest of my life to spend with her. I will make time for one on one bonding.”

She joked, but it was true. Anne would never purposefully jeopardize Mae’s well-being, no matter what the consequences would be for her. It was their duty to prioritize the girls now. If Cathy wanted to strut around bare from the belt up, well that was just an added bonus. 

Cathy sighed with relief. She shouldn’t have even worried. Anne had proven time and time again that she was already as invested in Mae’s future as possible. Of course she would only want whatever was best for the infant.

“Thank you. I love you.”

Parr snuggled into the crook of Anne’s neck, nuzzling it with her nose. It would require a lot of effort on her end, but she was convinced this would help their daughter in the long run. She could and would face anything for her children and with Anne by her side, encouraging, supporting, and sharing the weight, it didn’t seem that tough. They had this handled. 

“I love you too babe.”


	9. Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has it really been two weeks? My goodness. I've been challenging myself to write each chapter longer than the last and got very stuck on the last three hundred words of this one. But I have returned and completed my task! I will also admit to getting distracted by another fic idea, but I think I'm going to finish this one first.

“I love you too babe.”

Cathy took a moment to breathe. Everything always felt more manageable from the safety of Anne’s arms. By pushing themselves to talk about some of the tougher aspects of their children’s arrival the couple had already accomplished a lot, but there could be no time to rest on their laurels yet. 

As if sensing that her mothers were cuddling without her, Mae let out a whimper to attract their attention. Cathy and Anne both turned towards the Moses basket situated on Cathy’s side of the bed. 

“Let me get her babe,” volunteered Anne. She wanted to prove to Cathy how serious she was about making time for Mae.

She waited for Cathy to nod in agreement and get off her lap before crossing over to Mae. The baby stared up at her and Anne stared back in wonder. Boleyn reached down and unswaddled the infant, her little arms springing free and extending up.

“Come to Mama baby girl,” Anne cooed adoringly. She brought the newborn to her chest before peppering kisses all over Mae’s face. The baby didn’t even realize she had one of the most infamous women in history wrapped around her tiny fingers. 

Cathy joined the duo. She slotted herself into Boleyn’s side, laid her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, and placed a hand on their daughter’s back. The only thing preventing this snapshot in time from being sheer perfection was the noticeable absence of Lizzie. They would remedy that soon. 

Cathy professed, “I know we have so much more to discuss, but she’s captivating. I just want to watch her for the rest of the day.”

Agreeing easily, Anne nodded. “Me too. They’re bewitching at this age. So tiny and curious about the world around them.” She waggled a finger in front of Mae and smiled with delight when the child grasped it with her whole hand. 

They let Mae command their full attention for another minute. 

Eventually though, Cathy broke their reverie. “Back to it then my love?”

“Back to it. Will you hold her for a second so I can get my top off?”

Cathy nodded and reached out for Mae, who was passed off so Anne could nimbly undo the buttons on her blouse while Cathy stripped their child down to her nappy. Shirking the top and settling on the bed, Anne motioned for Parr to return the baby. Cathy deposited Mae on Boleyn’s chest. For a moment, the infant fidgeted and Anne worried Mae would reject her. But then she settled and the second queen breathed easy. Cathy collected Mae’s blanket from her basket and draped it over the two of them. She cuddled up close to Anne and tenderly brushed the side of Mae’s face.

She and Anne often existed in noisy moments. Individually, Cathy was known in their house to tread softly and disappear into her books for hours and while Anne was not quite as fleet of foot, she had embraced daily meditations to calm her fiery temper after too many overblown arguments she immediately regretted in those first months after reincarnation. Not to say they were incapable of silence when together, but after two courtly upbringings and five combined marriages where they were expected, encouraged, or forced to hold their tongues and submit-with admittedly varying levels of success-they’d seized the freedom to raise their voices in this new century. Sometimes that meant puzzling out intellectually stimulating conversations late into the night, singing cheesy pop songs at the top of their lungs simply because they could, going back and forth reciting each other’s favorite poems in silly accents, or bubbling over with unconstrained and radical joy after a few drinks with their family on a night out; sometimes that meant arguing with loud gestures and swelling opinions, but never fear or loathing and always with the desire to understand and make up later; and sometimes that meant making love so raucously in Cathy’s room under the false premise that they were home alone until someone would bang on the door to signify they should move to the attic, only for their mixed moans to reverberate down the stairs and inform the household of their exploits anyways. They’d gotten much better at decreasing the frequency of that last one after Kitty had pointed out that subjecting the rest of the house to their sexual activity wasn’t consensual.

Now though, there was a sacredness, a divinely scripted sanctity to keeping their daughter as comfortable and unbothered as possible. She had the rest of her life to adapt to her mothers' racket. They could be quiet for her on her first day. 

The trio settled into a secure pile of limbs.

“Where were we, love?” Cathy asked to reprompt their interrupted conversation.

“You were just telling me about your decision to willingly alter your body to feed our baby,” murmured Anne.

Cathy tried to argue, but Anne kept going. “I’ve only said the truth. I’m not going to let you downplay the commitment you’re undertaking and I will absolutely remind you of how amazing you are. You can call it a necessity all you want, but I know what this really is: a sacrifice.” 

“You’re making me sound like a hero Annie,” blushed Parr. She could feel the uncomfortable heat spreading across her neck and cheeks and was thankful it was less noticeable now in her new body than it would have been in her old one. 

Anne caught Cathy’s eyes and said, “Let me put it this way. I don’t know if I could do this. It’s one thing when it’s an expected aspect of pregnancy, but in my mind it’s another when this is the objective. Maybe it’s because I didn’t breastfeed Lizzie, so I don’t really know what I’m missing out on or whatever. So yeah, offering up your body to be our newborn’s main source of nourishment sounds pretty heroic to me. You’re our shining knight.”

She shifted to press a very firm kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead. Cathy nuzzled deeper into Boleyn’s side. Anne was always supportive: of her ideas, her feelings, her actions, and her ambitions. Everyone in their family was really. It felt nice to be valued, respected, cherished even.

Parr looked down at Mae and noticed the baby was already looking in her direction. She swiped her thumb across Mae’s lip to catch the drool collecting in the corners of her daughter’s mouth and prevent it from dropping into the puddle already forming on Anne’s clavicle.

“Mama sure is giving Mummy a big head with these high praises baby girl,” teased Cathy lightly. 

Anne snarked right back, “Baby girl, Mummy wants Mama to act like literally changing her body so she can feed you isn’t a big deal.” 

“Okay, okay. Thank you for your support Annie. It is very much appreciated.”

“Always babe. Do you want to talk to Jane about it? See if she’d be interested in doing the same for Eddie?” segued Anne. Eventually Lizzie would come looking for her again and they needed to settle as much as they could think of during this lull in activity.

Parr thought aloud, “I guess I should right? I wouldn’t have known it was possible unless I looked it up. I can imagine Jane’s similarly unaware presently.” 

Neither of them had spent much time that morning doing anything that didn’t involve one or both of their children. Jane could have started knitting Edward a jumper based off of a Pinterest post for all they knew. If she hadn’t yet, it was probably on her to-do list. 

Anne adjusted Mae slightly as the baby had put her hand on the edge of her mother’s bra and was attempting to pull it down.

Boleyn cooed, “Easy Mae-by. You really do take after Mummy.”

Cathy glanced over, not knowing what Anne was talking about as the blanket had obscured her view. 

Anne explained, “She’s trying to get me out of my bra.”

Cathy huffed, but offered no comment. She’d learned over the years engaging with certain remarks only guaranteed Anne would continue to push the envelope.

“Maybe it’ll be easier with a buddy? At worst you’ll have someone to vent to when I do something wrong,” picked up Anne. She would do her best, but the odds were good she would misstep somewhere. It’s not like she’d intentionally set out to annoy Cathy, but this was going to be a distinctly individualized experience for the two of them and she knew there would be times where she intended to be helpful and somehow only exacerbated a problem. The important thing was to apologize and do better, instead of internalizing it as a mark of personal failing. This was a lesson all of them had been forced to learn and relearn upon returning. 

“You’ve been absolutely wonderful so far, so I think those conversations will be few and far between,” acknowledged Cathy. She confessed, “I can’t imagine raising her without you and Lizzie.” 

The sincere admission struck Anne deeply. As much as she and Cathy had discussed their regrets over leaving their children behind, the younger queen had never stated what she would do if given a second chance. Anne always thought Cathy was too afraid to put that hope into the world, for fear that saying her wish out loud would guarantee it not coming true. It was perhaps the only thing Boleyn could pinpoint as a superstition held by her girlfriend.

Anne vowed, “You don’t have to. You’re officially stuck with us. Right Mae-by baby?”

She lifted Mae off her chest and held the baby up in the air for a few seconds. With the blanket still draped over her, it was hard to see her dangling limbs, even though they moved comfortably. She was too young to smile on her own, but she seemed happy. 

“I like Boleyn-Parr better, for the record.”

Anne was surprised to hear Cathy broach marriage again. When she’d brought it up earlier she knew it would test the waters for them and had expected that to be the end of their conversation for the time being. She didn’t anticipate Cathy initiating anything for a while and had accepted a slow-but hopefully steady-march towards matrimony. 

Boleyn countered, “I dunno. I’m partial to Parr-Boleyn. It flows. Cathy and Anne Parr-Boleyn.”

They were facing each other with Mae snuggled directly between them now. Anne had rotated Mae so she was facing Cathy, who was alternating between making silly little faces at the baby and glancing back up to Anne to show she was still paying attention. 

“Mine’s alphabetical,” stated Cathy. It was a small detail, but she liked it.

“Like I care about that!” quipped Anne. Truthfully, the only thing that really mattered was that Cathy wanted to marry her. The order of their names, the floral arrangements, literally everything else could be compromised on. As long as Cathy loved her and they were raising their daughters together she could face anything.

She added, “Like this little cutie cares about that,” and wiggled Mae for good measure. 

“Well we’ve got some time to decide for her. Lizzie too,” declared Cathy affectionately. She tenderly bopped Mae’s nose and watched the infant’s confused response.

Anne ghosted her lips over the crown of Mae’s head. 

She murmured, “There’s no rush for you Cathy. I mean that. I know you need time after everything you’ve gone through and I have every intention to be by your side forever no matter what. As long as you want me, I’m yours.”

Boleyn hoped her reassurances of patience were believed. The last thing she wanted was for Parr to feel rushed into accepting a proposal. After all, isn’t that exactly what Henry had done to her? No, this time if Cathy were to be a wife it would be after she was sure that was what she wanted.

“You really want to marry me?” Cathy asked, her eyes heavy and questioning.

She asked like it wasn’t something Anne should want, which was unfathomable to the green queen. She scooted closer to Cathy and put her hand on the part of Parr’s waist that was exposed because her shirt had ridden up. 

Looking her girlfriend directly in the eyes, Boleyn affirmed, “When you’re ready, yeah, I’m gonna wife you up so hard baby.” She smiled and emphasized, “But only when you’re ready. You always have a choice with me.”

The younger queen returned the smile and leaned over the baby to kiss Anne’s cheek. She felt Mae reach for the collar of her shirt and pull. 

“Do you need some attention from Mummy too love?” Parr crooned. She took Mae from Anne’s arms and kissed both of the baby’s cheeks.

Boleyn watched them with so much love bursting through her heart. Here she was discussing marriage with the woman she loved more than anything while one of their children vied for their affection. If only the younger version of her could see how happy she would become one day. 

She mused, “We’ve done this out of order compared to our first lives.” 

Cathy sat up with Mae and looked for the infant’s clothes. Once found she coaxed her daughter into the bodysuit. With Mae in her arms again, Cathy turned to face Anne and reminded her girlfriend, “We never could have been together in our first lives. For a couple of reasons if I remember correctly.” 

Between Anne’s premature death, Cathy’s marriages, and the obvious stumbling block of processing same-gender attraction at the crossroads of their religious upbringings and restrictive roles at court, Cathy couldn’t be more right. If she and Anne had met in their first lives, even if they had recognized their feelings, they would have never acted on their impulses. 

Anne, of course, was well aware of these facts. 

She acknowledged that truth, “Yeah, you’ve got me there, but if things had been different, really different, I would have courted you properly.”

She got off the bed to hold Cathy and Mae in her arms. 

Boleyn cupped the baby’s face fondly before continuing, “I’d have gone to your parents for their blessing before asking you to marry me and we would have spent the first night in our marriage bed with too many nerves to consummate. By our first anniversary we’d have had Lizzie and Mae not long after. Maybe even a couple more babies. I would have borne as many of your children as God saw fit to give us.”

“So when you say ‘if things were different’ you mean if I could get you pregnant,” interrupted Cathy saucily. She arched an eyebrow for good measure.

“Not just that. It’s like you’re not even listening,” retorted Anne. “Like I was  _ saying _ , you would have been published a dozen times over, never fearing backlash for a moment. We’d help grow the faith, we’d live good, pious lives, and when we died, we would have been so old we’d have grandchildren and maybe even a couple of great-grandchildren surrounding us.”

The second queen painted quite the pretty picture. The life she described avoided most of their major heartbreaks and traumas, yet included their darling girls and a goal Cathy hoped to one day accomplish. 

“Well that sounds wonderfully unrealistic. Although, it still wouldn’t be as perfect as the life we have now,” Cathy argued gently. 

Even if the retelling of their first lives had been possible, they would have missed out on so much. They’d have their girls, but not the rest of their family, nor the opportunities, technology, and general societal improvements. Loathe as she was to experience it monthly, Cathy much preferred to have her period now because of her constant access to running water, pain relievers, and hygiene products. 

“No it wouldn’t.”

The trio swayed in the quiet room. If they concentrated, Cathy and Anne could hear muffled voices and clattering plates from the kitchen. Meanwhile, Mae had started dozing on Cathy’s shoulder.

“Annie?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t care that we’re not doing this the ‘right way’. You and the girls are more important than any arbitrary rules about how to govern one’s life.” 

Cathy’s eyes sparkled sincerely as Anne took in her girlfriend’s declaration. The version of Cathy she had met three years ago had been so beaten down from her first life that at first she’d wanted to be as “normal” as possible. Of course, that had been supremely difficult to accomplish between reincarnation and lived experience as literal royalty. Besides, once Cathy had come to terms with how improbable, unattainable, and genuinely undesirable her objective was, she’d finally allowed herself to relax and be happy. Not long after she’d fully realized her feelings for Anne.

Boleyn encouraged, “I know and neither do I. When the timing’s right, we can figure out what getting married means to us. One day I’m going to make a vow in front of our family and God to cherish you for the rest of our mortal and immortal days. It can be a year from now, it can be ten years from now.”

“It’s going to be much sooner than ten years from now. When all of this calms down and we get the girls acclimated, I promise that we will pick this conversation back up,” gravely vowed Cathy. 

Even just a year ago she would have been hard pressed to make a promise of this severity, out of fear of repeating her past mistakes and putting something out into the world that could be used against her. The morning’s events had definitely accelerated the process, but in the last few months she’d started to consider going to the altar again. Sometimes she’d look over at Anne and get overwhelmed by the love they shared and smile at the thought of being united in matrimony one day. 

Anne was beaming down at her. It was a far cry from earlier when Elizabeth had asked for Henry. They hadn’t even discussed how that mess had turned out.

Parr sighed. She pulled back from Boleyn to place Mae back in the Moses basket. Anne let her go, turned to the bed, and redressed herself. She reclined on the bed and patted the mattress next to her so Cathy would take a seat.

“You’re a step ahead of me. What am I missing?” questioned Anne delicately. The tone of the room had shifted. She hoped she hadn’t said something wrong.

Cathy was still leaning over Mae, watching her little chest rise and fall in rapid succession. “I remembered Elizabeth’s reaction to Henry not being here.”

“Oh.”

The sixth queen looked over to her now subdued girlfriend. She wanted to know everything that had happened after Anne and Lizzie left, but she hated that bringing this topic up would unmistakably inflict more pain. 

Parr crossed to the bed and asked, “Annie are you okay?” She put her head on Anne’s chest.

Anne answered honestly, “Not really. She misses him and that sucks because I don’t want to lie to her, but how do you explain to a toddler that her father was a piece of shit?”

“Ask me again in two years,” retorted Cathy bitterly. 

Anne could only pull Cathy close and whisper a strangled, “Babe.”

Cathy was righteously angry now having thought through the likelihood of having a similar conversation with Mae. “Tell me I’m wrong. One day Mae might be curious enough to ask. Do I tell her the truth? Do I tell her about all the vile deeds her father committed? Do I tell her he tried to kill her cousin, that he successfully assaulted her sister? Do I tell her I was complicit?”

Anne knew she had to interject or risk Mae getting startled awake.

“Easy just breathe for me,” instructed Anne. She felt Cathy shudder in her arms and wagered a few tears were being shed. “None of that is age-appropriate for a three year old, so it stands to reason it’s just as inappropriate for a two year old. Whatever we do or don’t tell them, we will decide together.”

Parr sniffled. She hazarded, “So we lie by omission? I thought we agreed to tell the truth?”

“Maybe. I don’t like it much, but it might be what’s best for them when they’re this young,” Anne hesitantly concurred. She wanted to be as truthful as possible with Elizabeth, but giving her too much information would just succeed in making her grow up too fast again. The kind and parental thing to do might be to wait to tell the truth. 

Cathy thought aloud, “So for now we lean on one another and work Lizzie through her grief, even if that means painting Henry in a more sympathetic light?”

Agreeing Anne pointed out, “I suppose she’s still young enough that these memories might not stick long term. When she’s older, she might not remember him.” 

The first time Elizabeth eventually had only fleeting moments and a couple of trinkets that had once belonged to Anne. The stories she managed to coax out of people were always hurried and told when no one else was around to overhear them. Perhaps it would be the same with Henry now.

“Small miracles right?”

Boleyn traced her hand up and down Cathy’s back. It wasn’t their place to decide how Lizzie should feel about Henry, even if she cared for him in a way they never could. For everything he was not, he would always be her father. He knew it then or he wouldn’t have brought her back into the line of succession at Cathy’s behest. Although he’d allowed Anne to die based on fabricated charges he could not deny that Elizabeth was his flesh and blood. 

“Are you okay? I’d understand if you were disappointed in your interactions so far,” mumbled Anne. She’d be a complete mess if Lizzie didn’t remember her.

Cathy resolutely avoided eye contact when she responded, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to not be okay love. Are you sure?”

“No,” croaked Parr. She hated having to temper all of her reactions to and around Lizzie, but the child didn’t know her. If the teenage version of Elizabeth had returned Cathy could have groveled at her feet for forgiveness, begging for the chance to prove her contrition. No matter the response-and she would never have held it against Elizabeth if she couldn’t or wouldn’t offer Cathy absolution-Parr would have known where she stood.

In a way this was worse. She and Lizzie had no relationship at all. She couldn’t impose or otherwise force herself past the child’s personal boundaries. Lizzie seemed to be at ease with Maggie and was obviously used to Mary’s presence, but only time would tell how she felt about everyone else in the house. 

Anne felt awful. She comforted, “She seemed more concerned with him than outright rejecting you or Mae. You’re her mum and she’ll see how much you love her so soon. I promise, baby.” She prayed this was the truth.

“I keep reminding myself that her being this young means so many awful things haven’t happened to her yet. This version of her will grow up without the trauma and abuse we know about and hopefully that which we remain unaware of as well. If this is the price, I will pay it a thousand times over,” explained Cathy slowly. 

As much as it hurt, she would rather suffer than Elizabeth. Perhaps this was meant to be a part of her penance. 

She asserted, “I can handle her not knowing me now because we get the rest of our lives with her. I’m seeing her younger than I ever did then and one day we’ll get to see her grow up into the confident and clever young woman we always knew she had the potential of becoming.”

“I love you.”

Boleyn found it unfair how fit Cathy sounded when she spoke on what was motivating her to push through this awkward patch in her relationship with their daughter. Anne pulled Cathy into a blistering kiss, hands urging Parr to climb on top of her. Settling on her girlfriend’s waist, Cathy fervently kissed back and pushed Anne down onto the pillows. 

She whispered, “I love you too,” before unbuttoning enough of Anne’s shirt to have more direct access to her chest. Boleyn had left several markings along Parr’s collarbones in the previous week, so Cathy figured she owed Anne a couple in retribution. She had just started sucking a swiftly-forming bruise centimetres below Anne’s scar when Mae let up a whimper from beside the bed. 

With their chests heaving in twin syncopation and their eyes wide with shock the couple paused their proceedings and waited for the babe to stir again. She quickly did so, permitting an aggressive wail to pass her lips. 

Cathy sprang off the bed, rushed to Mae, and scooped the infant up into her arms. At first she thought the child merely missed the safety of her mother’s embrace, but Mae continued to cry. Anne had joined the duo and together with the younger queen was now frantically searching for the sign of their daughter’s discomfort. Her little face was getting progressively redder, which only added to the adults’ frustration and anxiety. With a mighty groan, Mae tightly screwed up her face and held her pose.

Then all at once she went quiet and relaxed. Anne and Cathy exchanged glances. Cathy was about to ask Anne what she thought all the hubbub had been about when she caught the scent of a most unholy smell. 

She bluntly observed, “I think she’s done a poo.”

Anne attentively hummed, “Aww her first poo here. How cute.” She opened her mouth to grin, but caught a whiff of the odor and gagged. “Christ is that her?!”

Perhaps it was the frightening octave of her mama’s comment or the excrement now rubbing against her bottom, but whatever it was, Mae was once again agitated and made her displeasure known. She closed her eyes, balled her fists, and shrieked from a rather hearty pair of lungs. If she wasn’t so distracted by the matter at hand Parr might be relieved at the thought of the child possessing such healthy airways. 

“Okay we’re going to change your nappy right now baby,” fumbled Cathy. 

The queens rushed towards the door, down the stairs, and into the sitting room hoping to find the nappies Cleves and Kitty had bought. Cathy tried calming Mae down while Anne feverishly tore through the shopping bags. They were so consumed with attending to Mae they didn’t even notice they had company. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot baby strikes again! We are firmly beyond the sixish chapters I thought this would amount to and I am overwhelmed by the positive reception this fic has received. So thank to everyone who has left a comment or a kudos or both! I will do my utmost to publish the next chapter soon!


	10. Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever say you're going to be better, but then just do worse instead? I really did mean to get this done in a shorter interval than a month and a half, but the American election cycle took so much out of me this year. Regardless, I have returned with Chapter 10! I think at this point my goal is to wrap up this story, which has to be the longest day I've ever conceptualized, by the end of the year.

To put it bluntly, Joan had seen some shit. They all had. A lot of times that meant disease, death, and the deepest pits of humanity’s failings towards one another. But in that moment, it meant two former English queens abandoning every sense of decorum and refinery trained into them in favor of acting like chickens without their heads. And all over a baby’s soiled undergarments.

“Aha!” triumphantly exclaimed Boleyn. She had found the nappies. 

Cathy rocked Mae back and forth as the baby wailed for relief. She looked to Anne, who seemed just as hesitant to make the next move.

“Should we lie her on the table?” questioned Cathy. She thought maybe it would be best to put a buffer between Mae and whichever surface they decided on if the mess was worse than they anticipated. It was unquestionably unhygienic to place Mae’s bottom directly on the table. They ate there on occasion.

Anne saw the turmoil pass over Parr’s face. She suggested, “How about the carpet? And I’ll put down a burp cloth Kitty and Cleves got because they’re bloody geniuses.”

Getting a quick nod from Cathy, Boleyn grabbed the aforementioned textile and hastily brought both it and a nappy towards the duo. 

She comforted Mae, “Please baby Mummy and I are trying. One more minute, I promise,” before kneeling to place the light blue fabric on the floor. 

The younger queen followed suit, doing her best not to jostle the screaming infant in the process. They laid Mae out and rushed to undress her. With the baby now in just her nappy the queens turned to one another and reached a glaringly obvious, yet embarrassing conclusion.

Neither of them knew how to change a nappy.

“Fuck.”

Shockingly, it was Cathy who swore. For the slightest second Anne was proud. She was even tempted to tease Cathy for swearing in front of the baby, since she’d told Anne only that morning to not do the same exact thing she’d just done. Then Boleyn remembered it wasn’t the time for pride or jokes because they couldn’t even handle cleaning up their kid. Maybe if they ever figured this out she could consider holding the hypocrisy over her partner’s head for a couple of well-timed jabs.

Joan had stayed still and quiet this whole time, just watching the events naturally unfold. When the pair paused guiltily, she realized their predicament.

The pianist cleared her throat and asked, “Would you like some help?”

Both queens turned at once to locate the noise, confirming they had indeed not noticed Joan’s presence. 

“Yes!” came the unanimous reply. 

Joan crossed to the shopping bags Anne had riffled through earlier to pull a package of wet wipes out. Anna and Kitty had really anticipated a baby’s needs better than she’d expected considering their brief shopping trip.

Anne and Cathy parted so Joan could kneel in between them, with Mae directly in front of her. The poor thing was still sobbing. As sad as that was by itself, a mean-spirited voice in Joan’s head reminded the woman that in her previous life Mae could have cried as much as she pleased, but Cathy would never have had the opportunity to answer her. At least now Cathy and Anne were here and trying. 

Pushing the thought aside, Joan murmured softly, “It’s okay Mae. I know. Shh, let’s get you cleaned up angel.”

She swiftly removed the soiled nappy and wrapped it up so no one would accidentally touch the contents inside. She took out a wipe, used it, and put it to the side as well. Subsequently, she lifted Mae by the ankles, slipped the new nappy underneath her, placed her back on the mat, and fastened the garment snuggly. 

Joan encouraged, “Almost done Mae.”

She ran her fingers over Mae’s little belly, tickling gently. Sensing her needs had been met and she was no longer uncomfortable, Mae stopped crying. The blonde then guided the infant back into her clothes and held Mae up for her mothers to see.

“There! That’s better huh?” cooed Joan. 

The baby calmly wiggled, no longer upset with her guardians for their lack of preparedness. 

Boleyn and Parr stared at her in awe, exactly like they did whenever she’d play a complicated run during rehearsal or explained the science behind black holes. They’d had a field day when they first realized Joan could comprehend astrophysics in ways the couple could not. 

Joan transferred the newborn back to Cathy.

“How’d you know how to do that?” posed Anne. 

Joan stared at Mae, but didn’t see her. She said, “My Frances was always fussy like this when she was wet. She didn’t like to let anyone else handle her then. Only me.” 

Cathy and Anne shared an understanding look. Joan had always been rather tight-lipped about her first life, as if she wanted to leave as much of it behind as possible-which the queens and ladies absolutely respected-and that applied to her family more than anything else. She never mentioned birthdays or anniversaries of important dates; she was usually the last to volunteer information about her childhood and time spent away from court; and neither Anne nor Cathy could remember a time where Joan expressed missing anyone from the 16th century. While it was her right to determine how much she shared, the two had wondered for some time if Joan simply didn’t know how to communicate how she felt and therefore thought it best to avoid ruminating on anything for too long, in case the resulting emotional outpouring proved to be catastrophic. 

Cathy started, “Oh Joan,” but was immediately cut off by the former lady-in-waiting.

“It’s okay. They all outlived me, which I know is more than most of us can say.”

That was more information into Joan’s past life than Cathy and Anne could ever recall learning. And suddenly so much clicked into place for Parr. Of course Joan would be hesitant to air her feelings if she thought the rest of the ladies-in-waiting and the queens would look down on her for grieving four children who apparently lived fairly long, healthy, and happy lives. As if she hadn’t also woken up in the present with pieces of her rooted firmly in the past. How had all of them let Joan think that she hadn’t lost just as much as them? 

“Annie, will you take Mae for a minute? I need to throw these out and wash my hands,” explained Cathy while gesturing to the used wipe and nappy she’d just picked up. Anne had been more than happy to hold the baby again.

Joan agreed, “Oh yeah me too. Guess I’ll make your acquaintance afterwards Mae.”

Anne held Mae in front of her face and attempted to imitate a small child’s voice to say, “You betcha Aunt Joan!” For good measure she waved one of Mae’s little fists. 

With that Cathy and Joan split off from Anne and Mae. Cathy hoped she’d be able to speak with Joan about the pianist’s admission, minimally to assure the younger woman she would always have the support of her family if she chose to be more open about her grief. Just as she had worked up the courage to breach the subject Joan beat Cathy to the punch.

She probed, “Did you always want to have biological children Cathy?”

Now this wasn’t the exact direction Parr had thought the conversation was headed, but she could work with it. She’d spoken at length about this with Jane once and of course she and Anne had had multiple conversations surrounding the expectations of women then as well as in the present. At some point that had segued into childbearing, so Cathy had already examined her true feelings on this topic. 

The former queen began, “No actually. I’d say for most of the time I spent in my first three marriages, which was admittedly almost my entire adult life, I was quite relieved that I seemed unable to conceive.” She paused to shake herself away from thoughts of widowhood, pilgrimages, and the repugnant odor of rotting flesh. She continued, “Truly, when I first realized I was pregnant with Mae, I wasn’t happy. I’d spent so many years thinking myself incapable of bearing children, and not just becoming okay with that fact, but embracing it for the autonomy it provided and the opportunities to instead focus on the children already under my care, that to have my world changed so quickly was beyond upsetting.” 

She glanced over to Joan who was nodding sympathetically. 

Briefly berating herself for going off on a tangent Cathy wrapped up her thoughts, “Anne likes to joke that I collected kids for a hobby back in the day, the way I accumulated step-children and wards, but it was the only way I wanted to be a mother until Mae surprised me. And even then I wasn’t really a mother to her.”

“You brought Mae into the world. That certainly sounds like a mother to me!” was Joan’s adamant response. Her jaw was set and she was staring at Cathy as if daring the blue queen to disagree again so Joan could properly rebuke her friend’s opinion. 

Cathy had already heard plenty of impassioned arguments from everyone about how positively mad it was for her to determine the legitimacy of her right to claim that role in Mae’s life as directly correlating to time they spent together. Catalina in particular had launched into a powerful scolding where she drew parallels between Cathy and Jane’s situations-after getting explicit permission from Jane-and asked Parr to say to Jane’s face that she was not a true mother to Edward. Of course pointing out that she thought it didn’t apply to Jane, but did apply to herself only aggravated everyone further when Parr’s justification was solely, “It’s different for me.” At that point, Anne had threatened to withhold some bedroom activities, which thoroughly embarrassed Cathy enough to admit defeat for the sake of ending the conversation. Afterwards she and Anne had a lengthy discussion about how important it was to Anne to respect Cathy’s relationship to her biological daughter.

“Thank you Joan. What about you?”

“Well I knew it was expected of me, that I had to fulfill my duty as a wife, but I know I loved them more than just out of obligation and it scared me at times. I often felt like a lot of the other people at court didn’t understand why Peter and I wanted to keep our children in our home and tend to them personally, even more so when they learned we never lost a little one. Maybe they thought we were too attached without reason. If any of my four came back now, I’d be so happy, but a part of me would definitely struggle with having to raise them on my own,” rushed out Joan, as if she’d been holding this in all morning.

Cathy assumed she probably had, maybe had for the last three years. She offered a somber observation, “I think I can comfortably speak for everyone when I say as long as you want this family, you will never be alone Joan.”

Sure it could be a nightmare when you wanted some privacy or needed overwhelming silence to feel centered, but Cathy would never trade the wonderful life she’d been brought into. Now that some of their children had returned the chaos could only increase and yet Cathy knew the bonds she, the other queens, and the ladies-in-waiting had formed in the past and carried into the present would last decades to come. 

“Thanks Cathy.”

The conversation trickled off as the pair took turns washing their hands in the house’s ground floor bathroom. Surprisingly, one of the longest-running arguments in the queens’ home involved the scent of the bathroom hand soaps. Everyone had their favorite “flavors” and the only reason they’d reached a tentative peace was because Catalina had sagely recommended they establish a rotation. Right now Anna’s preferred Mahogany Teakwood was featured, but gleefully Cathy realized it was nearing the bottom third of its bottle, which meant her own Crisp Morning Air would be reappearing soon. 

Just as she was wondering if she should go buy a new bottle in case they didn’t presently have one, which could open up an opportunity for Kitty to argue that her already stocked soap should be promoted instead, Cathy’s thoughts were interrupted.

“When I said alone, I guess what I meant was not having Peter. He wasn’t perfect, but he was good to me and we were happy. Through everything I loved him and I know he loved me,” whispered Joan. 

Happiness had been such a foreign concept for Cathy in her first life. She’d struggled to survive at every twist in her tale. There were bright spots, of course, mainly her children and her writing. For better or for worse she’d learned to adapt to every new environment, every new dilemma, every new challenge or threat. To know that a member of her family had formed a genuine enough connection with their spouse to categorize their time spent in an era before adequate medical care, enumerated human rights, and consistent spellings of one’s own name was heartening. 

Hoping she wasn’t pushing too far Cathy softly replied, “If you’re up for it, I’d like to hear about him sometime.” 

“Yeah I think that would be nice,” Joan confessed. She was drying her hands on the hand towel. “For now though, I’d like to properly meet Mae.” 

“Oh right! Goodness you changed her nappy before we even let you hold her. What abysmal parents we’re turning out to be,” groaned Cathy. 

She knew once she and Anne got past the embarrassment this would be a great story to tell, but for now she was still firmly rooted in feeling shame for being unable to deduce something so monumentally integral to caring for their infant. 

Joan waved Cathy’s worried observation aside. She declared, “Nah I think you and Anne are doing great. You wouldn’t have been freaking out if you didn’t care and if Mae hadn’t been so hard-pressed I know the two of you could have figured out the mechanics. Besides, I’d be more than happy to give both of you another tutorial so you can take notes this time.” 

Parr laughed. As much as Joan was only kidding, the proposition held merit in the former queen’s eyes. If she could take notes on how to best please her girlfriend in bed-and she absolutely had-then it made plenty of sense that nappy changing could be similarly documented for Mae’s future comfort.

The duo returned to where they’d left Anne and Mae to discover a new addition had already beaten them there. Lizzie now sat curled into her mother’s side, with one of Anne’s arms protectively wrapped around her, as she watched Anne warmly converse with Mae. The sight brought an exuberant smile to Cathy’s face. 

She heard Lizzie ask Anne, “Is it story time yet Mama?”

Boleyn took her eyes off of Mae to look down at her older daughter. She cupped Lizzie’s cheek tenderly and promised, “So soon my love. Go get a book for Mama please.”

“Okay!”

The toddler popped off the couch and raced to get the previously discarded storybook from off the floor. She returned to Anne’s embrace, but this time attempted to sit on Anne’s lap.

“Hang on princess. Not while Mama’s holding the baby,” Anne instructed. She called over to Cathy, “Cath, can you take Mae back?”

Cathy reached out to cradle the newborn. “Of course, come with Mummy to meet your Aunt Joan baby girl. Yes we love her very much don’t we?” Parr cooed.

She placed the baby in Joan’s arms and watched the pianist obsess over her. 

“Nice to officially meet you Mae! I look forward to changing more of your nappies in the future. Oh she’s so precious Cathy,” complimented Joan. 

“Thank you.”

Parr smiled down at Mae’s sleepy face. She could hear Anne positioning Lizzie in her lap on the sofa and asking if she or the toddler would be the one reading. Hopefully Elizabeth would soon be comfortable recreating the same situation with Cathy. She caught Anne’s eyes across the room and could tell her girlfriend was thinking the same thing. They still had so much to explain to Lizzie, including her relationships to Edward, Mae, and Cathy.

“Cathy, I have strict orders from Catalina to make sure you eat this sandwich.”

The pink queen was sternly holding a plate in the archway leading to the kitchen. Anne snorted.

“Joan would you mind holding Mae for a couple minutes?” Cathy directed to the blonde. 

“Sure have your lunch! Mae and I are going to discuss our favorite key signatures,” announced Joan. She brought Mae over to Catalina’s armchair and settled in for a rousing debate.

Cathy smiled and grabbed the plate from Kitty. She replied, “Thank you. Both of you.” 

She didn’t usually eat breakfast, so it wasn’t odd that she’d skipped it this morning, especially with everything happening at breakneck speed. She was about to sit on the other side of the sofa Anne and Lizzie were currently occupying when from Anne’s lap Lizzie called out, “Kiki come sit please!”

Confused, Anne asked her toddler, “Big girl who’s Kiki?”

Kitty answered deftly, “I am Nan. Hey Liz. What are you doing?” 

Lizzie proudly held up her borrowed book and declared, “It’s story time with Mama. Will you stay?” 

Howard pretended to think about the offer. She sat down, scratched her chin, and asked a follow up question, “That depends. Who will be reading the book?”

“Me! I read to you and Mama!” asserted Lizzie. She looked back to Anne eagerly, who pressed kisses to Lizzie’s cheek and set the child into a full fit of giggles. 

Cathy smiled at them from the floor, where she’d decided to eat instead. She’d grabbed the laptop she’d abandoned earlier to resume compiling a list for Mae and start one for Lizzie. She thought Catalina might argue that it was important for her to just eat, but this multitasking was much less taxing than her normal endeavors.

“Alright Liz. I’ll stay for story time.” 

Kitty leaned closer to the duo so Anne could also show her the pictures at Elizabeth’s request. They let Lizzie take the lead, only interrupting to offer encouragement or the correct pronunciation of a word. Every so often Kitty would glance over to observe Anne engaging with Lizzie. She noted the older queen’s rapt attention, protective posture, and overall devotion to her daughter and internally laughed at the false notion that Anne Boleyn had only ever cared for power and riches. It could not be more obvious what Anne’s world truly revolved around. 

“Another one Mama!” Elizabeth declared when Anne shut the finished tale. 

Indulging, Boleyn agreed, “Go ahead and pick another from the pile then love.”

Lizzie leapt to the floor and waddled over to the stack of books Anne had fetched earlier. She picked one up at a time, evaluating each by title and cover, before going to the next. Anne could see this was an incredibly important decision for the toddler to make, so it might be a couple minutes before Lizzie came to a conclusion. Luckily, the second queen had something she wanted to discuss with Kitty without the company of vigilant little ears.

“Do you not want to be Aunt Kitty?” Anne asked her cousin. She’d been so excited to reintroduce Katherine to Lizzie and was slightly disappointed that Anna had brought the toddler to the youngest queen for the first time without Anne’s accompaniment. She knew it wasn’t actually a big deal, but the nickname was throwing her. 

Kitty smiled softly. “Of course I want to be Aunt Kitty. I’m Aunt Kitty no matter what, but I do like Kiki. After all, Liz gave me the nickname herself. It’s proof we’re going to be thick as thieves.”

Anne sat in silent thought for a moment. She began, “You know I can never repay you and the others for all you did for her when I wasn’t around right?”

Kitty nodded. They’d had this conversation before.

“And I’m so sorry you’re losing the parental dynamic you had with her,” continued Anne. Was there an adequate way to describe this type of guilt? 

Jane, Anna, and Kitty had done their best to provide Lizzie with love and affection during their reigns as Henry’s consort. In this life they would be relegated to less direct maternal interactions, as Anne-and Cathy eventually-would be expected to provide most of that. 

Extending her hand and waiting for Anne to grab it, Kitty placated, “I loved that version of my relationship with Elizabeth so much, but I promise I’d much rather be her Kiki than her step-mum. And if we’re honest, I always saw us as more cousinly than motherly in our interactions.”

She paused and allowed Anne to acknowledge what had just been said.

“Besides, she’s got two great mums now. The role I need to fulfill is Kiki, which for the record is a hybrid of cool aunt and fun older cousin,” Kitty finished proudly. 

She had loved the brilliant girl she knew ever so briefly and felt so protective of the child, but now she didn’t have to worry about so many things she’d worried about when she was cast as step-mother number three. This time she and Liz could grow up together with Anne’s love and guidance, without fear of stepping out of place or needing to placate an unruly tyrant’s mercurial whims. 

Wetly laughing, Anne pulled the younger woman into a hug. She held Katherine close and basked in the joy of having her baby cousin and her first baby under the same roof. She loved that Lizzie had once found Kitty to be an enjoyable presence in her life and seemed poised to feel that way once again. 

“Now I just need to explain who Cathy is to her,” mused Anne. 

“Yeah good luck with that,” smirked Kitty. She remembered all too well what it was like being introduced as the newest fixture in Elizabeth’s life. As much as she pitied Cathy and Anne, she was glad to be removed from such a high-pressure situation.

They ended their hug to find Elizabeth had made her selection. She held aloft Jane’s copy of The Cat in the Hat and insisted, “Kiki read this please.”

“Oh I love this one. Climb on up Liz.”

Lizzie settled comfortably between her Kiki and her Mama. Anne pressed another kiss to the crown of the girl’s head and made eye contact with Cathy. Her partner had finished her sandwich and was now fully devoting herself to researching what was needed to raise two children in the twenty first century. 

The list was getting long.

Kitty had barely gotten out, “The sun did not shine,” when Mae began to fuss in Joan’s arms. The pianist did her best to console the infant, but Mae refused to cooperate. Cathy sighed and went to push herself off the floor when she saw Anne get up and motion for Cathy to stay where she was.

“I’ve got her. You should keep working on that list,” advised the older queen. Time was precious, especially when there had been no actual preparation for bringing children into their home. Cathy could accomplish more without Mae in her lap. Parr waited to see if that would be possible.

Joan apologetically passed the baby to Anne, who was quick to snuggle her daughter. 

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay Mae-by baby. I’m here,” promised Boleyn. She swayed gently and allowed Mae to get comfortable. That seemed to work because she stopped stirring. Feeling pleased with her ability to soothe the infant this time, Anne returned to the sofa. 

Elizabeth asked, “Why did Mae cry?”

She was observing the bundle against her mother’s chest with curiosity.

Anne replied, “I bet she wanted to see the pictures this time. Mae loves reading stories.”

That made sense to Elizabeth, who was therefore vigilant in reminding Kitty to show Mae every page before continuing the book. By the time the cat was tidying up his mess, Lizzie was entertained, Mae was asleep, and Cathy was finalizing the first draft of her compendium.

“Should we read another one Liz?” asked Kitty. 

“No. Now we play Kiki! You too Mama!” instructed Lizzie. She launched herself off the seat and turned to tug on her cousin’s hand. As an afterthought she added, “Please!”

Kitty looked to Anne, who seemed torn between joining Lizzie in her exploits and consulting Cathy on what they needed to purchase in the next few days. Again, it was Joan who jumped in and saved the day.

“Would you mind terribly if I played too, Elizabeth? Mae seems to have fallen asleep on your Mama. She must not like me as much,” she joked. 

Lizzie looked back to Anne, still on the sofa so as not to disturb the newborn in her arms.

“I’ll put Mae down in her basket for her nap and then I’ll join you, Kiki, and Aunt Joan outside, big girl. How’s that sound?” proposed Boleyn.

“Okay Mama.”

With that decided Lizzie allowed Kitty and Joan to lead her back to the yard where she’d hopefully exert herself enough for a second nap and a quiet afternoon. 

“Okay we’ve got a couple minutes. Show me what you found.”

“Let’s go to our room. I’ll have to stay with her while she’s down until we get a monitor.”

Cathy and Anne ascended the stairs in tandem and returned to their room. Mae had nuzzled into Anne’s chest, making the former queen hesitant to release her hold on the baby. She loved how at ease Mae was with her, as if the infant could sense that Anne was her mother. 

“You’ll have to put her down eventually love,” teased Parr. She’d plopped onto the bed with the laptop still open.

Anne glared, “You can’t make me.”

Cathy smirked, but held her ground. “Sweetheart, please, before Elizabeth comes barging in demanding your attention again.”

“Oh alright,” huffed Anne. She lowered Mae gently into her Moses basket and whispered, “Mama loves you baby girl.” Then she joined the sixth queen on the bed. 

"I made one for each of them. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but there's not much overlap for their age ranges," explained Cathy.

Anne looked over the document. She noticed how Cathy had arranged the lists so the more expensive items were towards the top. 

"A bed for Lizzie, car seats for both of them, at least two prams, a changing table for all the little ones. Cath, this is going to get very pricey very quickly," Anne uneasily murmured. 

Cathy agreed, "I know, but we should be okay. I've already found a couple of online exchanges for clothing since kids outgrow them rapidly, which should help, and I've been able to put away a good amount of my show earnings."

Anne flushed. Regretfully she admitted, "I have not been quite as diligent." 

Much like in her old life, Anne considered herself to have a refined taste. She bought trendy clothes, treated herself when she felt like it, and always bought holiday gifts for her loved ones. She appreciated her income much more now, seeing as it was significantly less than what she'd grown used to at court, but she also couldn't deny her inability to create some real financial discipline. If she wanted something, she got it. 

Parr was well aware of this fact, seeing as it had been the source of several disagreements between the two over the course of their relationship. They’d been able to reach a better understanding of one another’s spending tendencies after a while and had compromised on some of their more heated quarrels, but in the beginning it had been one of the most contentious aspects of their blossoming attachment.

“I know sweetheart. It’s okay,” promised Cathy. It’s not like any of them had anticipated this turn of events-hoped for certainly, but never actively planned for it, for fear that it would never happen. 

Anne frowned and firmly declared, “It’s not okay anymore. I’ve been so selfish. Our family comes first. I can’t keep spending willy-nilly like I did with Henry.”

“Hey don’t say that,” Cathy entreated. She hated when Anne looked down on herself. “You’re not alone with this. We’ll figure out a budgeting system that works for you and in the meantime my savings should cover everything.”

Boleyn furrowed her brow. It didn’t sit well with her to force Cathy into footing all the bills up front. Children were apparently even bigger money guzzlers than her. If there was one thing that Anne prided herself on-besides being Lizzie’s mother and the strides she’d taken in processing her traumas-was the equity between her and Cathy as romantic partners. To not contribute, even a meager sum, to the first few critical purchases of their children’s lives was humiliating. It made her feel like she was failing to provide for them.

She heard herself suggest, “Or I could give you access to my bank account? I don’t feel comfortable making you cough up all this money. I need to learn to be more responsible, but until I do, I think you should be in charge of our finances.”

Parr was touched by the gesture. Financial independence was a new concept to all of them except Anna and they’d all adjusted to it in different ways. For Anne to advocate that someone else should control how her money would be spent, even if the person was her girlfriend, was a big step emotionally.

“You would trust me like that?”

Boleyn leaned into Parr’s space and whispered, “Baby I trust you with my life. If this just makes more work for you, then we can forget it, but the truth is you are much more level-headed than me and we’re going to need that because life just got so much more expensive.” 

They were lying in each other’s arms at this point. The laptop had been cautiously deposited on the side table as they breathed in the same air. Anne tenderly stroked up Cathy’s back, while Parr played with the hairs at the back of Boleyn’s neck.

“I mean, just think. One day we’re going to have two university bills to pay,” smiled Anne.

The comment brought tears to Cathy’s eyes. She hadn’t given enough thought to what would happen down the line, but Anne was right. There would be no stopping Lizzie and Mae from getting educations, earning college degrees, and proving to everyone they were just as brilliant as their male peers. This time their girls would be free to pursue whatever captured their imaginations. They would give the two of them the world.

She felt Anne's thumb wiping under her eyes when she echoed, “They’ll go to university.”

“They will. They are going to be so brilliant, just like their Mummy.” 

“And their Mama. They’re going to be the absolute best of both of us,” the younger queen avowed. 

Anne could feel her own eyes watering. It warmed her heart to know that Cathy wanted their daughters to be like her too, when for so long she’d been typecast as one of the most reprehensible figures to ever make their way to court. She was someone Lizzie and Mae could be proud of.

She whispered into Cathy’s ear, “They will. We’re going to do right by them this time.” She left unsaid,  _ “We failed them once. We won’t fail them again.” _

They were leaving their guilt in the past. They had to.

Parr rolled them over so she was on top of Anne, their hips and chests slotted tightly together. She gazed down at her love with awe and affection. 

“I’m going to do right by you too,” she pledged. She would be the partner Anne deserved. “I love you so much Annie.”

Boleyn beamed up at Cathy and proclaimed, “No one has ever loved you more than I do, Cathy Parr.”

They sealed their assertions with a heated kiss.


	11. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be the briefest allusions to Catherine of Aragon's miscarried and stillborn children, as well as Thomas Seymour assaulting Elizabeth Tudor. I would categorize this chapter as mildly angsty because we all deserve to be comforted by Catalina.

With a mournful sigh, Anne rolled off the bed and made her way to the mirror. Her shirt was wrinkled and her hair was a mess, but she could remedy both enough to be mildly presentable. She could see Cathy’s adorably besotted grin in the reflection and shook her head fondly.

She teased while primping, "Are you enjoying your view?"

Cathy demurred from her nest of pillows, "Of course I am darling."

The pet name made Anne preen. Cathy usually reserved that one for when they were alone. Naturally that wasn’t technically true now, but neither of them had been focused on anything besides the other for the last few minutes. 

Hoping they hadn’t disturbed the baby’s sleep once again, Anne hazarded a glance in Mae’s direction. 

Her eyes were closed and her little chest rose and fell at what Anne presumed was an appropriate tempo for a sleeping newborn. Somehow she’d blocked out what her mothers had been up to, preferring instead to rest after that exhausting affair with the nappies. 

Anne exhaled with relief and said, “Oh bless she slept through all of that.”

“I guess she really is perfect then,” hummed Cathy teasingly. She’d rolled onto her side to face the duo.

“She is,” Boleyn agreed. She bent down to press a quick kiss to Parr’s lips and then another for good measure. “And so are you. I love you.”

Cathy echoed, “I love you.”

The green queen turned back to the Moses basket to fawn over her youngest. She murmured, “I love you too Mae.” 

She sat back on the bed and felt the sixth queen drape herself along Anne’s shoulders. 

With both sets of eyes observing the tiny life they’d suddenly been put in charge of, Anne asked, “I’ll see you both later?”

She felt Cathy nod and heard her hum her assent. Anne turned her head to the side to drop a final kiss to Cathy’s forehead. 

“Okay. I’ll be in the yard. Be good for Mummy, Mae.”

Boleyn hauled herself to her feet and slowly walked to the closed door. She looked back when she grasped the handle.

Cathy shot her an encouraging smile and whispered, “Bye.”

With that last word Anne was over the threshold and making her way down the stairs and out the back door to their toddler, who was no doubt terrorizing Kitty and Joan. The door closed behind her with a resolute  _ thud. _

And then there were two.

“Just you and me now baby girl,” observed the blue queen. 

She stretched slowly while taking stock of everything. She knew she should go to the bathroom and while it was a short distance from her room, surely close enough to hear Mae if she cried, Cathy was hesitant to leave the infant alone for even a moment. A part of her worried that Mae would disappear again if Cathy or someone else she trusted didn’t have her in their presence at all times. 

She shook the thought from her mind. That was the fear snaking its way into her heart again. She was supposed to be the rational one.

But then again, there was nothing rational about the day’s occurrences. If five people could suddenly blink into existence, didn’t it stand to reason they could just as easily evaporate into thin air? 

She leaned over the basket. There was Mae, as real as Cathy. 

“Mummy needs to go freshen up love, but she’s a little scared to leave you alone. Do you promise to be here when Mummy gets back?”

Naturally no answer came, but the continued calm in the room and the reassuring movement of Mae’s chest convinced Cathy to get it over with. She gathered some fresh clothes and tiptoed out the door. 

Parr was halfway to her destination when, as if sensing Cathy had vacated the room, Mae let up a cry. She sighed and turned to make her way back to comfort the babe, but a voice called from the staircase.

“Go ahead  _ mija _ . I’ll get her settled again,” promised Catalina. The Spaniard didn’t even wait for an acknowledgment. She strode confidently towards her goddaughter’s daughter and picked the fussing tot up into her arms. 

Knowing Mae would be under Catalina’s watchful gaze Cathy proceeded to her destination.

“There there little one. Mummy will be right back. Yes she will. You’ll see,” cooed Aragon. 

She bounced Mae gently. The cries became whimpers and the whimpers became sniffles as Catalina walked back and forth. Finally the sniffles petered out and the first queen was left with two big, warm eyes staring up at her with intrigue. 

“Look at those curious eyes. You really do look just like Cathy,” remarked Catalina. 

“Is that a good thing?” mused Cathy from the doorway. She had changed into new trousers and a dark green jumper with white script across the front reading, “Ravioli Ravioli give me the formuoli.” 

It had been a gift for Anne from Cleves the previous Christmas, but Cathy had commandeered the article of clothing in the fugue-inducing epoch between Christmas and New Year’s and never looked back. From what Catalina understood, it was a reference to a cartoon the younger queens had watched as part of a grand endeavor to gain a “definitive understanding of the popular culture their contemporaries had experienced growing up.” Whatever that meant.

The older of the two adults rolled her eyes and retorted, “Of course it’s a good thing. Take the compliment  _ mija _ .”

Having deposited her dirty laundry into her hamper, Parr sidled up to the duo and replied, “Thank you Madrina. I’m sure if she was old enough to voice her gratitude she’d let you know how welcome you’ve made her feel today.” 

“Well of course she’s welcome. She’s your and Anne’s daughter. She has every right to be here,” smiled Catalina. 

Cathy’s breath hitched in surprise as Mae stared up at the two former queens. 

Catalina continued, “Oh don’t act so shocked Cathy. The two of you have been together for years and you were Elizabeth’s longest tenured mother. Besides, Anne’s positively smitten with Mae. I see no differences in the ways she looks at Mae and at Elizabeth. It’s not a large logical leap for me to arrive at this conclusion.”

She hadn’t realized anyone else in the house, besides maybe Joan and Kitty, had noticed Anne’s clear devotion to their baby yet. She'd only arrived a couple hours prior. Her voice rough from holding back tears that seemed to spring to her eyes at a moment's notice, Parr confessed, “Anne has been so wonderful. It feels almost too good to be true, for her to want me to raise Mae with Lizzie.”

Aragon shifted Mae into a tight, one-armed hold with her right arm and pulled Cathy into a hug with the other. 

“I know none of us have enough of an idea of what the near future is going to bring us with these recent developments, but you and Mae will always deserve to be loved and taken care of. Of course all of us are going to strive towards that, however, I’m so glad you have Anne to make both of you a priority,” assured Catalina softly.

She would easily admit that when she’d first had an inkling of a sneaking suspicion that Cathy and Anne’s increasingly fumbling interactions originated from bubbling attraction and not fermenting resentment, Catalina had not been entirely supportive. Not that she told them that, seeing as inserting herself into something that had not yet been invoked aloud could only lead to greater troubles. The two were blindly convinced the other could never be anything other than a good friend and housemate anyway.

As Catalina watched the duo fall into orbit of one another and exist like twin stars, she let go of the lingering contempt she held for Anne. Where once she felt bitterness and even jealousy over Anne’s ability to trade wits and boisterously argue with the highest ranking members of court; where once she loathed Anne’s heretical inclinations and her capacity to protect the evangelical scholars she engaged with; and where once she detested the sheer volume of Anne’s intelligence, passion, and fiery determination to stand her ground, no matter how others perceived her, Aragon could now see each trait for what it was: an asset.

The Spanish queen knew the intricacies of her goddaughter like no other. She had watched Cathy ploddingly grow out of the shell she’d been weathered into by the end of her first life. She could at times fulfill Cathy’s cravings for low stakes academic debates on theological traditions or the young woman’s unspoken pining for someone to act as an emotional mooring so the sixth queen could let go, even momentarily, but more and more frequently Catalina had moved aside so Anne could step into her metaphorical shoes. She could not deny the innate way the pair ebbed and flowed to fill each other’s cups. She had seen Cathy share secrets she’d kept so deeply hidden she hadn’t even recognized the trauma they’d left behind and had observed a reduction in the rage Anne always seemed to leave burning right beneath the surface, like both sword and shield, ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice for verbal attacks and emotional protection. As Cathy grew back into her confidence, Anne grew back into her patience. 

By the time Parr had finally ( _ FINALLY _ ) tearfully admitted to her Madrina that she was perhaps a little bit romantically interested in the Boleyn girl, Catherine of Aragon was convinced Anne was the only person she could deem worthy enough of a piece of Cathy’s heart. Not that Cathy needed her approval of course.

Catalina was pulled from her reminiscing by Mae snuffling loudly, prompting both queens to fawn over the little one. They cooed at her little fingers flexing and stretching in measured beats and they cooed at the perfectly shaped “o” her mouth made when she yawned.

"Would you like her back Cathy?" 

Cathy focused on the way Catalina cradled Mae with a tender, yet firm grip and was bitterly reminded of the Henry her godmother had lost and evidently not been reunited with. She wondered if Catalina was fighting a losing battle with her emotions to mourn the son who’d barely lived or had not yet come to the place where she could jointly entertain thoughts of gratitude for Mary’s return and anger for being once again cheated from knowing her first born son, nevermind the near half dozen other children who’d met their maker even sooner than two months into life.

“I think she’s rather content with you Madrina. Aren’t you, baby girl? Hmm, doesn’t Mummy’s godmother take such good care of you?” Cathy praised. She tickled Mae’s arm, which the infant lifted and waved in response.

Catalina eased herself into Parr’s desk chair and smiled. She said, “I never thought I’d see the day you call yourself Mummy.”

Cathy plopped back on the bed to comment, “Well I’ve never been Mummy before. She would have called me Mama or I suppose Mother.” She hesitated before admitting, “I do rather like being Mummy though. I know she can’t comprehend it yet or anything, but the moment Anne said it aloud this morning, it just clicked for me. I’m Mae’s Mummy. Even without her here, I’ve always been her Mummy. Hopefully, Lizzie will let me be her Mummy too.” 

Cathy held Catalina’s gaze, even as her hands fidgeted with the hem of her pilfered jumper.

“I’m so proud of you  _ mija _ . I know getting to this emotional space hasn’t been easy.” 

Parr could feel the heat flushing against her cheeks and neck as she meekly mumbled, “Thank you Catalina.”

Catalina ignored her goddaughter’s sheepishness to speak with the baby casually resting in her lap. She began, “Now I don’t know if Mummy’s told you this yet Mae, but your grandmother and I were very good friends a long, long time ago. We were so close, she named your Mummy after me and since then your Mummy has taught me so much about living a life full of love, courage, and resiliency. I’m so proud of the amazing person she’s become and—”

“Please no more Catalina!” interjected Cathy desperately. 

She could never quite handle the unrestrained way Aragon boasted about her to anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the former queen’s radius. Even with only Mae in the room, Cathy couldn’t fight the immense volume of self-consciousness bubbling up inside herself. 

“And so humble too Mae,” teased Catalina. She glanced from the squirming babe to her cringing goddaughter. She sighed and made her way to the edge of the bed, before gently settling next to the curled up ball that was Cathy Parr. “ _ Mija _ , I’m just catching the baby up on what she’s missed.”

Cathy unfurled slowly and laid her head on Catalina’s shoulder. She stroked the sole of Mae’s left foot and glumly suggested, “Perhaps you two could have this conversation when I’m not around?”

“And, pray tell, what should Mae and I discuss now instead?” posed the older Catherine. 

Cathy mumbled, “Anything really. You could tell her about Annie. I know you’ve got loads of stories about her from before and I don’t.”

The Spanish queen chuckled and responded, “Oh, the things I could tell you about your Mama, Mae. She used to drive me up the walls...She still does some days.”

“But you love her,” was Parr’s chipper reminder.

“Yes I love her dearly. If only that version of me could know how much I would grow to love your Mama, Mae. You will never find someone more willing to stand by their beliefs than Anne Boleyn. She’s quick-witted and fiercely protective of everyone, but especially your Mummy. I can only imagine what she’ll be like with you and your sister,” elaborated Aragon thoughtfully. 

The trio fell into a comfortable silence. Cathy felt a sense of serenity she had never before imagined possible. For a fleeting second, her heart felt heavy with longing for her mother, but in a way Maud was there with them. Catalina and Cathy kept her memory alive, as did Maria and Bessie, as they had overlapped with Maud in Aragon’s retinue. And now Mae would be added to that list. Lizzie too. Cathy would tell her daughters stories about her childhood; about adventures she got up to with Anne and Will before they’d been so quickly ushered into adulthood; about the ways Mother had made a dark and dangerous world feel so safe until she couldn’t hide the truth from her any longer; how Cathy’s noted ability to withstand her troubles had been instilled in her by the same woman who’d taught her how to read. 

“I wish she was here too  _ mija _ ,” admitted Catalina softly. 

“You know I think it’s spooky when you do that.” 

“Yes I know.”

There were nights the shadows haunting Cathy could not be soothed by Anne’s warm embrace or a cup of tea brewed from Jane’s special stash of home comforts, and like the all-knowing being she was, Catalina would sense them and arrive to shoo the monsters away. She would bundle Cathy into her comforter and hold the younger queen as she unraveled tales of her youth in Spain and funny instances at court from the earlier years of her reign. It was often during one of these otherwise dreary nights that Cathy would ask in a quivering voice for some details about her mother and over the years Catalina had picked up on the specific signs of melancholy her goddaughter exhibited when she was acutely missing the woman who’d given her all the tools she’d once needed to survive.

Mae yawned again in the hushed tranquility of her new bedroom, content with the company she was in, breaking the spell on the room’s other inhabitants.

Catalina jokingly mentioned, “She’s getting sleepy again. I certainly hope I’m not boring her too much.”

“Oh I wouldn’t take offense to that. She’s fallen asleep on me and Anne already. I’m sure she’ll be a complete nightmare tonight, but for now I’d like to think it means she’s warmed up enough to us that she’s comfortable. It’s like she knows who we are and she trusts us,” rambled Cathy nervously. She desperately hoped her observation to be true. 

“Speaking of tonight, if you need help, I’m right down the hall. I’m not going to mind in the slightest if you need an extra set of hands,” volunteered Catalina. She couldn't profess to be an expert in infant care or even particularly well-versed in the subject, but she would never expect Cathy to chart these new waters alone. 

Cathy divulged hesitantly, “About tonight. Annie’s already suggested the four of us, that is to say Lizzie, Mae, Anne, and I, all stay together in my room.”

“And is that what you would like as well?” Aragon inquired gently. She detected a hint of incertitude in Cathy’s words.

Parr nodded slowly, like she was convincing herself of her own answer. Her furrowed brow and clenched jaw could not satisfactorily persuade either of them though.

The oldest queen softly prompted, “You can tell me anything  _ mija _ .”

With a deep sigh, Cathy acknowledged her godmother’s statement and voiced a concern that had been whipping around her mind, “I love that Anne wants us to jointly step into our roles as parents at full steam, but I don’t think that’s the right thing for me to do with Lizzie. I worry pushing her to recognize a relationship she doesn’t yet know exists on top of grieving Henry and meeting the babies will only lay the groundwork for an adversarial association.” 

Once it was out in the open, Cathy’s posture softened and forehead ironed out its wrinkles.

“Would you like to hear my thoughts on the matter? I’ll keep them to myself if you would prefer for this to be a venting session instead of a problem-solving moment,” replied Catalina.

She waited for Cathy’s tell-tale head nod and snuggle combo to continue, “I think you’re probably right. I can only speak from my observations so far, but I would imagine navigating this new dynamic with Elizabeth will require a gentle hand. Explaining how she is connected to both Edward and Mae will be challenging enough, before layering in a new parent. It might just be too overwhelming for her to grapple with everything at once. If you ease her into getting to know you, she may find it easier to adapt.”

Cathy was both relieved and frustrated to hear Catalina agree with her. She hadn’t completely wanted to be right and for the tiniest moment she felt a fleck of jealousy flair up as she thought about how easily Anne could flit between their daughters. She could hold Elizabeth in her arms and the child would not doubt their connection and while Mae couldn’t comprehend much, she’d already shown comfort in Anne’s handling. Cathy could feel herself analysing her every move within Elizabeth’s presence and felt sick when she remembered she deserved this wariness in any and all future interactions with the child she had failed to protect.

“I wonder if this is meant to be my penance. If I’d have had the time then and she’d allowed it, I wanted to earn back Elizabeth’s trust. I wanted her to know I would keep her safe this time. Maybe I have to prove myself worthy first.”

Cathy kept her eyes forward facing, too afraid to look at Catalina head-on.

“If she’s so young she doesn’t know you, then those things haven’t happened yet. I’m not advocating for you to just forget, but I also think it’s not fair for you to be so fixated on the past that you aren’t living in the present. It’s going to be overwhelming to monitor the two of them as is,” rationalized Catherine. 

She couldn’t imagine the multitude of emotions swirling around inside Cathy and hated knowing her goddaughter thought she deserved to suffer. Catalina knew she would be an absolute wreck if Mary had come back and not remembered the letters traded back and forth across the countryside or the birthdays, accompanied by opulent gifts or even the odd walk in a palace garden discussing the princess’s latest studies. To be the one to retain the memories and struggle to connect with the one relieved of them was its own form of perdition, one she was quite thankful she would not be forced to navigate. 

“You should talk to Anne. I’m sure the last thing she wants is to put you and Elizabeth at odds. The two of you will be able to come up with a solution that is best for your daughter.”

Parr agreed, “Yeah I will the next time I see her.”

Catalina turned to make sure she had Cathy’s full attention. She instructed, “I want to hear you say it. ‘Elizabeth is my daughter. I am Elizabeth’s Mummy. Anne and I will figure this out.’ Please say it for me  _ mija _ .”

Parr’s first instinct was to decline. She’d rather just put away this conversation and focus on something else entirely. But Catalina looked so earnest, especially with Mae kipping down in her arms, and it honestly wouldn’t hurt anyone if Cathy acquiesced. 

So she took a deep breath and said, “Elizabeth is my daughter. I am Elizabeth’s Mummy. Anne and I will figure this out.”

With each statement she grew more assured and confident that she and Boleyn would work this out. They would do their best, for Lizzie and Mae. She looked up to face a beaming Catalina and burrowed gently into her side, so as not to disturb Mae.

“Thank you for always knowing what to say, Madrina. I love you.”

“I love you too  _ mija _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the longest time I was holding myself to this arbitrary minimum word count and the main scene just would not cooperate, but luckily I got it through my head that this was the chapter I wanted to publish. I love reading other interpretations of Aragon and Parr's dynamic, so I knew I wanted to include at least one solid godmother/goddaughter interaction in my own story.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Long time listener, first time caller! I've been watching this fandom for over a year and have finally worked up the courage to start publishing some ideas I've had. I'll be adding characters and tags as the story continues, which I currently don't have a set chapter number for. I don't think there's anything in particular I need to tag for, but please let me know if I need to update something. Edited myself, but hoping I caught any/all typos. Thanks for reading!


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